


A Different Life

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children of Earth, Fix-It, M/M, Retcon (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-08-20 11:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 141,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8247706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: When Ianto Jones leaves Torchwood after Owen's death and revival, he builds himself a different life. But can he really leave Jack behind when the world is about to end?





	1. Prologue

1\. Prologue

_Jack,_

_I suspect this letter will find you worried, upset, and possibly very angry. Hopefully you did not break down my door to find it. Know that above all, I am alive and I am all right. I have, however, left Cardiff, but you probably knew that as soon as you stepped into the flat. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, but it was the_ _only_ _way. I couldn't tell you, because I know that you would have tried to talk me out of it, and I would not have been able to do this otherwise._

_I am leaving Torchwood. I am leaving of my own free will, and by the time you read this, I will be miles away and starting a new life. A different life, perhaps even a normal life. You will find several level 6 Retcon pills missing from the medical bay, so rest assured that Torchwood's secrets, as well as your own, will never be revealed. I won't even remember Canary Wharf, and in many ways, I am grateful to be able to finally purge that horrific memory._

_Please believe me when I tell you that I am not leaving because of anything you or one of the others may have said or done. I am leaving for the most selfish of reasons. I am not afraid to die in the line of duty, but I could not bear what it might do to you or to the team. When you left us for your Doctor, we barely survived the loss. When Gwen threatened to leave with Rhys, you were furious and gave in to her demands, willing to let her stay at any price. When Owen died, we were all devastated, and you risked everything to bring him back._

_I can't do that to the team, Jack. I can't do that to_ _you_ _. I won't be the one who gets killed chasing a Weevil and leaves everyone behind to cope with the mess. Perhaps I flatter myself that the team would grieve as much for me as we did for Owen, but I saw how almost losing Gwen affected you. I saw what actually losing Owen drove you to do. I do not want to be coddled and protected and left behind in the Hub, nor do I want to become a liability in the field, to you or the team. And I don't want you to be upset when I die, because if I stay here, someday Torchwood_ _will_ _claim me, as it claims us all. I know you well enough to know that you would blame yourself in some way when that day comes. I could not bear for you to carry that guilt for eternity. And I cannot imagine what it would be like to come back to the half-life that Owen has found._

_I suspect that you, and the others, may feel betrayed by my actions, but at least you are not mourning my death. You can rest easier knowing that I am safe and alive, and I can rest easier knowing that you will recover from this and move on, as Torchwood must always do. At least it will not be under the shadow of death, but the promise of life._

_I will miss you, Jack. More than anything in my life, I regret having to lose my memories of you and all that you have come to mean to me. There have been times when I wished that we could have a normal life outside of Torchwood, but it was not meant to be. You are a time-traveling immortal, and I am a simply one man who has seen too much, experienced too much, and loved too much. It is time to put that behind me and start over. I suppose I'm lucky that I get a second chance at a normal life, but I know deep down that I will always yearn for more. For the wonder of the universe, but especially for you._

_Please don't be angry or sad. This was my choice and my choice alone, and I accept the consequences. I am sorry to hurt you, as I know this must, and I will bear that burden for the rest of my life, even if I don't know why._

_Please don't try to find me. Looking back to the past will bring nothing but pain and regret in the future. Move on with your life. Find love, share laughter, and live each day to the fullest. That may sound like a trite greeting card, but it is my hope for both your life and my own._

_I may have never told you, but I love you, Jack. I hope that knowledge will help you find peace someday. You are more special than you know, and more deserving than anyone I've ever met. You will_ _always_ _be in my heart._

_IJ_

Jack stared at the single sheet of stationery, the looping script growing blurry as his eyes filled with tears. Brushing them angrily away, he crushed the paper in his hand and stalked through the flat, though he knew that he would not find what he so desperately wanted in that moment. He felt as if his heart were breaking within him, crumbling into a thousand pieces that would never, ever be whole again.

Ianto had left. He was gone. Forever.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short introduction to set the stage. Rest assured that this is not your typical Retcon fic. It stems from yet another Gmariam/Tamaar discussion in which she suggested one thing, to which I added another, and it took off from there. I do hope you join us for the ride. This story is complete, and I am posting from elsewhere to share with readers here. It will allow me to tweak the little things and hopefully finish the epilogue. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!


	2. Lost

2\. Lost

Ianto had left. He was gone. Forever.

After all they had been through, together and apart, Ianto had left Torchwood—left _him_. Jack swore as he kicked a nearby box, packed and labeled with the contents in the same neat handwriting of the devastating letter. Ianto had packed away his life as if trying to make it easier for them all in the end. Jack screamed and yelled as he kicked the box over and over, uncaring of whatever was inside, cursing Ianto for his competence.

It wasn't going to be easier this way, it was _harder_. Jack was tempted to vent his anger and loss on every single box in the flat, ripping them apart and scattering the remains of Ianto's life around the apartment like the leaves of a dead tree. He didn't, because he couldn't do that, not to the only tangible reminders he had of the man. So instead he collapsed onto the bed, elbows resting on his knees as his head fell to his chest. He tried to take deep breaths, tried to control the gut-wrenching sobs threatening to overwhelm him, but he quickly gave up and fell backward onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears fell, this time letting them flow instead of swiping them away.

Ianto had left. He had left to protect Jack, to spare him the guilt and heartbreak of Ianto's death when death came to claim him. But Jack felt as if his heart were breaking anyway. He tried to cling to the knowledge that Ianto was alive and had escaped the terrible fate that Torchwood inevitably brought upon all its brave men and women. He tried to tell himself it was what he wanted for Ianto, a normal life free of aliens and death and countless other horrors. Yet the words were hollow. He wanted and needed the other man in his life _now_ , even though day after day he was setting himself up for a bigger fall when he eventually lost Ianto, just as he lost everyone.

Perhaps the fall wasn't as bad as if Ianto had been killed, but it was still more painful than Jack had ever imagined. He felt abandoned, as he had been abandoned so many times before. As he lay on the bed, countless images of Ianto played through his head, colored with sadness and hurt but no real resentment. Memories from the night they had met in the park during a Weevil chase, to their first kiss after a long and difficult case; from the day Jack had returned from his travels with the Doctor, to the night they had fallen asleep on the roof of the Millennium Centre wrapped in Jack's coat. Ianto in Jack's favorite suit and tie, in jeans and a jumper, in nothing; Ianto practicing on the firing range, making coffee, laughing in the pub with the team and sharing secret smiles with Jack. Jack had been back for fewer than six months, yet it felt as if he'd spent years with the Welshman. Now he would never have the chance. He had only their brief months together to tuck away and remember, and he would not let anger taint those memories.

At some point Jack called the Hub and told Tosh the news. She offered to start looking immediately, to comb through CCTV footage, to trace any and all records that she could to try and find him. It was her way of coping, he knew, but Jack told her no, that Ianto had left them a note and asked them to let him go. Besides which, Ianto had probably taken the entire weekend to disappear. He'd asked for the time off and told Jack he was spending the weekend with his family. When he hadn't come in Monday morning, Jack had called several times before rushing over to Ianto's flat. He wasn't sure what he had expected to find, but it was not an empty house filled with boxes, Ianto's mobile phone on his dresser with his wallet and the damning letter.

No, Ianto was thorough, and there no doubt in Jack's mind that he had meticulously planned out every detail of his disappearance. What threatened to send Jack toppling over the edge with guilt was that he'd had no idea Ianto had been so unhappy. Yes, he had been quiet since the fiasco with Gwen and Rhys, but they had all been rattled by the case. Jack had talked to him about it, when Ianto had burst into his office several days after the space whale had been put out of its misery…

 

_It had been a week since the showdown in the warehouse. A week since Gwen had almost lost Rhys and Jack had almost lost Ianto. He was still upset and found himself frequently glancing into the Hub or checking the CCTV to make sure Ianto was there, was safe, was alive. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Seeing a gun pulled on Ianto at point blank range—even if it did jam—had scared him more than anything else since he'd returned and started a more serious relationship with the Welshman._

_He was staring into the Hub trying not to think about it again when Ianto stormed into the office, his face dark and stormy. Jack sat up straighter._

_"What's wrong?" he asked, fearing the worst._

_"I don't know, you tell me, sir," said Ianto, stopping in front of Jack's desk and standing almost at attention, hands behind his back and stiff as a board. "Have I done something to disappoint you? Has my performance not been satisfactory?"_

_"Your performance?" asked Jack, completely confused. "What are you talking about?"_

_"Gwen and Owen are out on a Weevil call," said Ianto. Jack nodded slowly._

_"Yes," he said. "It was their turn. Tosh and I handled the last one."_

_"Exactly," said Ianto. "And Gwen and Owen were out before that, and you and Tosh were out before that. And so on and so forth. Why am I no longer a part of the field rotation?"_

_"What?" asked Jack._

_"I'm not an idiot, sir," Ianto snapped, emphasizing the 'sir' in a way that was strikingly unprofessional for him. "You haven't sent me out for anything beyond food and supplies all week. Is my performance unsatisfactory? Have I done something to warrant a demotion?"_

_"Of course not!" Jack exclaimed. He stood and came around his desk, moving closer to Ianto, but the other man stepped away, maintaining a cool distance. Jack sighed. He should have known that Ianto would realize what was happening. He should have been more prepared to deal with it._

_"Then why am I no longer allowed in the field, sir?" asked Ianto. "Because it's fairly clear that's what's happening here. I can only assume that I have done something wrong."_

_"You've done nothing wrong, Ianto," Jack replied. "I just wanted…you were roughed up at the warehouse last week. I thought you could use a break."_

_"Bullshit." Ianto crossed his hands over his chest and leveled Jack with a gaze he could barely meet for all its intense fury. "You don't trust me in the field any more."_

_"What?" Jack exclaimed. "Ianto! Why would you say that?"_

_"I was captured. Compromised. I failed. Therefore you've revoked my field operative status. Am I correct?"_

_Jack stared at Ianto with a look of horror. "You couldn't be any more wrong. Ianto, you were brilliant out there, from the very beginning right to the end. You took out four of those thugs all on your own! Why would you think that's a failure?"_

_"Because I was taken hostage. And now you're not sending me out anymore. I'm back to cleaning and filing and coordinating from the Hub while the four of you go out on every call." A measure of hurt crept into Ianto's voice. "I thought that I had moved beyond that."_

_"You have!" Jack said, wanting to grab Ianto and embrace him but knowing full well it would only make things worse; they tried very hard to keep their personal and professional lives separate, even if Jack was failing at the moment. "We need those things, though. We always need someone here, and you keep us more focused and organized than anyone—"_

_"Stop patronizing me, Jack!" Ianto hissed, stepping forward. Jack thought Ianto might shove him, but at the last minute he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You're a better man than that, and I don't deserve it. I deserve the truth. Why don't you trust me in the field anymore?"_

_"I do trust you!" Jack shouted. "You're a damn good field agent, you know that!"_

_"No, I don't," said Ianto coldly. "I only know that I'm off field duty. And I can only assume it's because you don't want me out there anymore."_

_"Of course I don't want you out there," said Jack wearily. This was not going well at all. He had no idea how to appease Ianto without confessing something he was not ready to confess._

_"You don't want me out in the field anymore?" asked Ianto. He sounded incredulous, as if he hadn't wanted to believe it, but no longer had a choice. After a moment of silence, his voice returned to its usual calm demeanor. "Understood. I'll turn in my firearm and confine myself to Hub duty only. If that's all, sir?"_

_Ianto had shut down and put on his mask, but Jack knew the man was still angry and hurt. He turned away and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to untwist the conversation._

_"No, that's not all. Dammit, Ianto, that's not what I meant, not what I wanted!"_

_"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir."_

_"Stop with the formality," Jack growled, turning back and waving a finger at him. "This isn't about that."_

_"You are my boss, sir," Ianto pointed out flatly._

_"And as your boss, I cannot tell you enough how much of an asset you are to us in the field. You did an exceptional job at the warehouse. I was so impressed, so proud…I don't even have words for it. I'm sorry if I never said so."_

_Ianto's face softened the tiniest bit. "You're not making sense. If I did well, why are you not sending me out in the field anymore?"_

_"Because as your…your partner," Jack started, swallowing hard as the words stuck in his throat. Ianto's eyes immediately went wide. "As your partner, I let my emotions rule my better judgment. I wanted to keep you safe. Alive."_

_"Jack," Ianto started, sounding confused. "This isn't about that, about us. This is about me doing my job—"_

_"A job that you do brilliantly, but one that puts you in danger every day!" Jack said. "I can't risk that, not after what almost happened."_

_"Nothing happened, Jack," said Ianto, still clearly confused. "Except for me getting captured, which I admit was my mistake—"_

_"Will you listen to me?" Jack almost shouted, and this time he did grab Ianto's shoulders, though he held back from shaking him. "You were almost shot, Ianto!"_

_"I have been shot, sir," Ianto replied blandly. "And bitten and kicked and hit and stabbed and poisoned and attacked by large, slimy tentacles. I'm still here. It's my job to go out there, to protect people."_

_"And I'm protecting you," said Jack. He felt Ianto instantly freeze under his hands. "I don't want to lose you, Ianto."_

_Ianto frowned as he pulled away from Jack. "Is this about me, or about Gwen?"_

_Now it was Jack's turn to be confused. He had bared more of his heart to Ianto than he had to anyone in years, and this was how the man responded? Where was the disconnect? "What do you mean,'Is this about Gwen?'"_

_"You almost lost her that day, too," Ianto pointed out. "But you're not holding her back at the Hub."_

_"She threatened to leave on her own," Jack snapped. "She wasn't captured, attacked, and almost shot. You were."_

_"So you trust her more. She can handle it."_

_"Bloody hell, will you listen to me!" Jack started pacing, while Ianto stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest now, watching Jack carefully, his face neutral. "I trust Gwen as much as I trust the rest of the team. I don't want to lose her, I don't want to lose anyone. But I trust you more, and I_ _can't_ _lose you."_

_"It's my job, Jack," said Ianto._

_"It's your life!" Jack snapped. "And it's already too short. I don't want you to throw it away chasing aliens!"_

_"Do you want me to leave Torchwood then?" asked Ianto. He looked like he'd been slapped across the face when Jack was silent. "You do. You're pushing me out by restricting my duties, hoping I'll leave."_

_"I want you to survive!" Jack said. He looked into Ianto's eyes, letting the man see everything he was feeling in that moment—all his hopes and fears and dreams for the future. "I want you to stay with me, forever if I could have it." As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Ianto's face went pale, his eyes wide._

_"Jack—" he started, but Jack took two steps, pulled Ianto into his arms and kissed him hard to shut him up. He'd said too much already and would almost prefer that Ianto ignored it. But as they kissed, Ianto's hands came to Jack's face and he pulled back, gazing deep into Jack's eyes._

_"I would stay with you forever, Jack, if I could," he whispered. "But not like this. Not in a cage, like a delicate prize that needs to be protected. I want to be by your side, as an equal."_

_"You are my equal," said Jack, biting back tears. "But I always come back. You won't."_

_"Someday," Ianto agreed, and Jack felt his heart break once more. "But I will do my best to stay with you for as long as I can."_

_Jack almost sobbed in relief. He reached up and took Ianto's hand in his own. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I overreacted. It's just that I—"_

_"Don't," said Ianto, kissing him to stop, just has Jack had done earlier._

_"But I do."_

_"Now I know."_

 

They had kissed once more and gone back to Ianto's flat, spending the night wrapped in one another's arms, savoring the time they had together, alive and whole. Jack had sent Ianto out the next day with Tosh, and Ianto had looked both grateful and relieved. Aside from forgetting two entire days of their lives, things returned to as normal as possible around the Hub, and Jack kept his fears in check.

At least until Martha arrived three weeks later and Owen was shot. Jack knew he had gone too far to save Owen, but he hadn't anticipated it happening so soon after almost losing Ianto. It was if by saving Owen, he could one day save Ianto. He hated himself for what he had done to the medic, even though he knew he'd do it again. Sensing Ianto's shock and confusion, Jack had given him the space to think because Jack had needed it himself. Losing Owen had confirmed for him just how devastating losing Ianto would be one day.

He had not thought that day would come so soon, a mere fortnight after almost losing Owen. He had not suspected for a moment that Ianto was preparing to leave him, especially after he had promised to stay with Jack for as long as he could.

When he told her not to look for Ianto, Tosh sounded defiant at first, and then upset, but they would respect Ianto's wish, at least for as long as Jack could stand it or Tosh could hide it. He told her to find Gwen and Owen and for them all to take whatever time they needed. She offered to come by Ianto's flat, but he told her no. He wanted some time alone, to work through his thoughts and mourn his loss.

And so he spent the rest of the day in what had been Ianto's home, and on some nights, Jack's home as well. He went through the boxes Ianto had packed, alternately laughing and crying over the flotsam and jetsam of the man's life. He set aside all those items he did not wish to stash away in the cold storage facility next to Suzie's belongings. In the end he had an entire box for himself, filled with ties and books and photographs and coffee mugs, movies and music and cufflinks and even Ianto's pillow. He placed the crumpled letter on top of his mementos and closed the box, glancing around the flat one last time. Eventually he would have Gwen and Owen come by to take the rest away, when they were all ready.

"Goodbye, Ianto Jones," Jack whispered to the dark silence, his heart breaking once more. "I hope you did the right thing."

He forced back the sliver of hope that someday he might see Ianto again, walking through Cardiff, blissfully unaware of his former life yet safe and content in his new one. He wished only the best for his friend and lover as he shut the door, and hoped that one day he might find his own peace, just as Ianto had, wherever he was.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the first chapter was so short, I thought I would go ahead and post the second sooner rather than later. I'm hoping to post regularly, though as I am going over each chapter again as I post there may be some days when I don't have the chance. As always, a thousand thanks to Taamar for her wonderful beta work. Please read her stories, including her latest, Disintigration! And thank you for the comments and kudos on the first chapter! It takes a few chapters for things to pick up, but I anticipate a good ride when they do.


	3. Found

3\. Found

Ianto had been gone for a month, and it had been a difficult time for all of them. Tosh had retreated into herself, quietly mourning the loss of her closest friend at Torchwood. She had taken it the hardest of the others, though she showed it the least, burying herself in work. She was slowly starting to smile again, but Jack still hated seeing her so sad and lonely.

Owen was more reserved as well, his bitter snark now silent without a worthy opponent to spar with. He and Ianto may have snapped at each other all the time, but it was different than when they had first met and struggled with one another, two strong yet completely opposing personalities. Instead, it had developed into a way for them to communicate friendship in the only way they knew how. It was clear that Owen missed Ianto's banter, dry wit, and ability to deconstruct any situation with simple words that were usually true but never cruel; Jack knew this because Owen wasn't taking the piss out of Ianto in his absence the way he usually had when Ianto was away from the Hub.

Gwen was like fire and ice, hot with anger one moment as she tried and failed to understand why Ianto would abandon them, then cold with loss as she grieved for Ianto as if he were dead. She was worried about her upcoming wedding, Jack knew, yet he couldn't help but hide a grin when Tosh snapped one day and told Gwen to get a grip, it's not as if Ianto were her best friend or lover. Gwen's mouth flailed for several moments, and she turned to Owen as if looking for support. He shrugged and indicated he clearly agreed with Tosh. Gwen murmured an apology under her breath, and everyone returned to work. Yet as it had been each and every day since Ianto had left, it was not the same.

As the wedding neared, Gwen became more and more upset about Ianto missing her special day. Jack tried to listen, but deep down he was growing frustrated, impatient, and exasperated. She was getting married and entitled to her anxiety, but she was also exceptionally selfish when it came expressing her feelings about Ianto. Gwen thought only of her own loss, and not how they had all lost a friend and colleague. Jack was fairly certain Gwen didn't even consider his personal relationship with Ianto every time she said something; she could not possibly understand how disappointed he was that he would not be able to dance with Ianto at the wedding. Then again, he and Ianto had kept the depth of their relationship private, sometimes even from one another. How were any of them to know he was devastated by his lover's decision to leave?

When Gwen got herself impregnated by a Nostrovite, things only grew more complicated. Her hormones were all over the place, to the point that she insisted on going through with the wedding anyway. Jack went out to find her a new dress that would accommodate the sudden belly bump she had woken up with, but all he could think about was Ianto and his eye for clothing, and how he would have been able to pick the perfect dress for Gwen without batting an eye. Once at the ceremony, Jack enjoyed running up and interrupting it, and enjoyed breaking out the big gun from the back of the SUV even more, but he also missed the inevitable roll of the eyes he'd come to expect from Ianto whenever he did such things, the sassy comeback tempered with a smile just for him.

Now, sitting alone after wistfully dancing with Gwen and handing her off to Rhys, Jack wished more than anything that Ianto was there, in his arms, moving slowly across the dance floor to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett. With a sigh, he finished his champagne, picturing Ianto in the pink shirt he had always worn so well, a buttonhole tucked into the lapel as they held one another close.

"I miss him too," murmured a voice next to him. Tosh was swirling a mixed drink, Owen standing behind her and watching the wedding party out on the dance floor with a look that spoke of his own sadness and loss.

"He would have liked it," Jack offered in reply, trying to smile but failing. He could almost hear Owen roll his eyes behind them.

"He would have hated that dress you picked out," Owen said, and Jack shook his head, because Gwen looked beautiful, and they all knew it.

"He would be happy for her," Jack murmured, and Tosh nodded in agreement before turning toward him.

"May I have this dance, Jack?" she asked. "I'm not him, but at least I won't fight you for the lead."

Jack laughed as he took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Tosh pressed close to him as they swayed to the music, and he held her tight.

"I hope he's happy," she whispered. Jack swallowed against the tightness in his throat.

"So do I."

But more than anything, Jack wished Ianto was in his arms.

* * *

Christmas was even harder than Gwen's wedding. Jack had never been one to celebrate the holidays much, having grown used to working or spending the time alone. But now being alone reminded him of all he had gained and lost in just a few short months. It had only been a year since Jack had sat with John Ellis while he died, and Ianto had calmly taken care of him afterward. They had unintentionally ended up spending the holiday together when the Rift had been quiet, and it had been one of the better holidays Jack had experienced for years. He had been looking forward to an even better one.

He wondered where Ianto was now, if he was settled into a different life, a normal life, and happy. If he was with new friends and coworkers, or if he was celebrating somewhere alone.

Jack wondered if Ianto missed him, and then reminded himself that Ianto was completely unaware of those he had left behind beneath the Plass because he no longer remembered anything about Torchwood, including Jack. He was fairly certain Tosh was looking for him, and he let her, because he wanted to know that Ianto was all right. Memory loss affected people in different ways, and Jack had seen too many people suffer the effects of a major dose of Retcon.

Jack had sworn to himself that he would never die on New Year's Eve, not after what Alex Hopkins had done at the millennium. But this year was the first year that he was finding his promise hard to keep. As he stood atop a roof near the city centre, shivering in the cold darkness as he watched the fireworks burst over the sky, Jack thought about how easy it would be to give in, to fall, to start the new year in darkness.

But he didn't. Ianto had always hated it when Jack died.

* * *

Aliens. Space junk. More aliens. Undercover operations. Extraterrestrial spores. And always Weevils, more Weevils.

Owen was still dead in his undead way, Tosh was still looking for Ianto while Jack turned a blind eye, and Gwen was still being overemotional Gwen. And of course, Ianto was still gone, the weeks since Jack had found the note now stretching into months. One after another, with no change other than a slight variation in what the Rift spit out for them on a day-by-day basis.

Jack felt numb inside. He was tired, he was lonely, and he was sick of feeling tired and lonely. He wanted to move on, but he couldn't because he wanted Ianto back. It was fairly clear after three months, however, that Ianto had been serious about his departure. They'd had no word from him, and Tosh had failed to find a single clue to his whereabouts in her discreet searching.

Until the end of January, almost a year to the day since she and Jack had gone back to 1941. Tosh had stayed late, as usual, and had called him with excitement in her voice. Jack tried hard not to let hope flutter in his chest, but it did anyway when he saw her shining face and just  _knew_  what she was going to tell him.

"I found him," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "I've been searching for something, anything, and I finally found him."

Jack raised an eyebrow, and she gave him a crooked smile as she turned back to her monitors. "I know you told me not to, but I had to know. It was barely a bread crumb, but I followed the trail back to the source—or the endgame, I'm not sure. Either way, I think it's really him."

She pulled up a file and showed him a slightly blurry picture of a driver's license registered to Tristan Warlow. The man had a beard and slightly longer hair, but the nose and those sideburns and that tie were all Ianto Jones; if it wasn't Ianto, it was his doppelganger in almost every sense of the word.

"Where?" Jack breathed, staring at the photograph. Tristan Warlow. Tristan, as in the tragic hero of Welsh myth? Had Ianto chosen that name for its sad meaning, a commentary on love and loss? It broke Jack's heart all over again to think so.

"He's living in Caernarfon," Tosh said quietly. "I found the bread crumb in one of Ianto's folders and traced it to this man."

Jack frowned. "What sort of crumb?"

Tosh looked up at him and smiled. "Ianto was good, he really was. I knew he wouldn't make any preparations from the Hub, and he took his laptop with him. He hasn't used it, though—that was easy enough to look for. So I hacked into the ISP from his flat and began searching through everything I could of his online access. Again, it was very clean, with the exception of a different email address from the personal one we have on file. Everything was deleted, but I recovered a confirmation for a new email address registered to tryswarlow. I've been tracking that for weeks and finally got a hit—Tristan Warlow, 26."

"And from that you found him in Caernarfon." As usual, Jack was astounded by Tosh's ability to find just about anything, anywhere.

"Yep. He's working at the castle." She paused and looked up at him. "Jack, I think it's him. It looks like him, and he's in a tourist office of sorts, by the sea, in Wales. It makes sense that he would gravitate toward something familiar." She sounded hopeful, but also as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right.

Jack nodded, though something was tugging at his gut, telling him not go get his hopes up. "His grandparents were from up north."

"How did you know that?" Tosh asked in surprise, pulling up Ianto's file and scrolling through it.

"Sometimes I remember the little things," Jack murmured, remembering the time Ianto had told him a bit about his family. Jack had shared some of his own life on Boeshane that night, the first time he had shared anything about his home planet with someone in decades.

"I'm going up there," Jack said. If he left immediately and drove through the night, he could be on the north coast well before dawn. Which would mean sitting around a café somewhere waiting for the castle to open. "First thing in the morning. I have to see him."

"Jack, he said he didn't want us to find him," Tosh reminded him. "You told me not to even look."

"You did, though," he pointed out, and she glanced away. "Even when I told you to stop."

"I just wanted to know if he was safe and happy," she whispered, her voice catching. "Alive."

"I know," Jack soothed her, taking her in a close embrace. "And that's all I want too. I'm not going to talk to him, I just want to see him, to  _know_ that he's safe and happy and alive." He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. "Maybe then we can move on like he wanted us to." Jack wasn't sure if it was the closure he wanted or needed, but he had to try.

"Maybe." She took a deep breath and met his eyes again. "Can I come with you? I—"

Jack shook his head immediately. "No, we need people here. And too many of us might trigger his memories."

"Not if he doesn't see us," she protested.

Jack didn't reply right away, looking down to frame the right words before he glanced up again. "This is something I need to do alone, Tosh. For my own peace of mind. Trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," she said, pulling him close again. "I'm just jealous you get to see him."

He grinned, his chin resting on her head. "I'll try to sneak a picture if I can, okay? So we can remember that facial hair."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Perfect."

He kissed her forehead and released her, pushing her chair in and prodding her away. "Now, go home. You're staying too late. You've found him, so treat yourself to a dinner or a movie or something. You deserve it."

She laughed. "I think I'm more likely to indulge in a glass of wine, a good book, and an early night," she said ruefully.

He helped her into her coat, then grabbed her hand and squeezed tight. "Thank you," he said softly. "Thank you for not giving up."

"You're welcome," she said. "Just…take that picture so I know, all right?"

"I will."

Tosh left for home, and Jack turned back to her computer, where the picture of Tristan Warlow stared back at him.

"Tomorrow," he whispered, reaching out to run his fingers across the face on the screen. "And if you're happy, I'll finally let you go."

He tucked away the damning hope that he would find a man who was so unhappy with his new, normal life that he would come back to Cardiff, to Torchwood. It was selfish, and Jack was determined to do right by Ianto, no matter the cost. Because one day he would have to let go, as he always did.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Taamar for being a most awesome beta as we plotted this story! And to everyone who has read, reviewed, or followed it. I hope you continue to enjoy it!


	4. Lost Again

4\. Lost Again

"It's not him."

Jack heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "What do you mean, it's not him? Jack, it's the only lead I could trace anywhere. It all fits. It has to be him!"

Jack hung his head as he threw himself onto a nearby bench not far from Caernarfon Castle, staring blankly out at the waterfront, grey meeting grey, just like his mood. "I bought a historical picture book of the city from him. It's not Ianto." Never mind that the man had looked remarkably similar; everything else had been completely different, from the tenor of his voice and the northern lilt of his accent, to the slightly green shade of his eyes and his extremely diffident manner. Tristan Warlow was not Ianto Jones.

"But then how did I find this man? How is it that he looks so much like Ianto?" Tosh sounded almost desperate to understand.

"Honestly? I think Ianto may have bested you here."

Another sucked in breath. "No. He was good, but not that good."

"He laid a false trail. He knew we'd try to find him at some point, and he made sure that we would find the wrong man."

"But why would he do that?" asked Tosh, and Jack shook his head, wondering the same thing himself and coming to only one conclusion.

"Because he didn't want to be found, I suppose. I'm sorry, Tosh."

A sad, nervous laugh filled his ear. "No, I'm sorry Jack. I'm sorry I sent you all the way up there and got your hopes up."

"It's all right. At least we still have hope, right? That he's alive and happy somewhere." He closed his eyes, knowing the inevitable response.

"Because he's not dead, not by Torchwood."

"Exactly. We lost him to a better life, not a horrific death. Besides, it was a nice drive. North Wales is beautiful."

"Jack…"

"And I got a book out of it. Want it?" Again he knew the answer as soon as he asked the question.

"No, but thank you. It would only remind me…" She trailed off, unable to finish, and Jack nodded in agreement.

"Me too."

They were silent for a moment. Behind him, Jack could hear the buzz of tourists around the castle. He wondered if Ianto had ever been to Caernarfon, if that was why he had chosen it, or if he had simply happened upon a man similar enough in appearance that he had laid the false trail in hopes of further obscuring his new life.

"This would have been a good place for him," Jack murmured into the phone. "Quiet, peaceful, and far away from the Rift."

"We'll find him, Jack," Toshiko replied.

"We're not supposed to," said Jack. "If he's living a normal life somewhere like this, we shouldn't disturb that. He made his choice, and we have to respect that." It was still upsetting, though, even after so many months. Jack could say it, but he had a hard time accepting it.

Tosh didn't reply, but Jack could hear her clicking away at her keyboard in the background. Either she was continuing the search anyway, or there was Rift activity.

"When are you coming back?" she asked instead.

"No reason to stick around up here," he sighed, standing and heading toward the car park where he had left the car he'd hired for the day. "It should take me about four hours, so unless the Rift expels an army of Weevils, the rest of you can leave as soon as I'm back. I'll cover for the evening."

"All right." More clicking. "It looks like you'll have a quiet night, Jack. Are you sure you don't want any company?"

"You go home. I'll be fine." It occurred to him that perhaps Tosh wanted the company, but Jack needed to be alone after the failure of his drive up north.

"Drive carefully. We'll see you soon."

They hung up, and Jack continued toward his car. He passed a young couple looking at a map of the area and impulsively offered them the book he had purchased. They accepted it with surprised gratitude, and he smiled, thinking that at least something had gone right for someone. He didn't want the book; it would always remind him that Ianto had not moved to Caernarfon.

* * *

It wasn't long after he returned to Cardiff that the Night Travelers came through the Electro. Jack hated them. He'd failed to stop them once, and now innocent lives had been lost to them again: men, women, and children whose last breath had been taken by the mysterious phantoms Jack had trailed so long ago. That they had saved one boy was hardly a consolation; the boy was orphaned and alone.

He tried to push the thought from his head that Ianto would know exactly what to do, how to help the boy. Tosh and Owen didn't have a clue, and Gwen wanted to cuddle the kid until he stopped crying. In the end, they made contact with an aunt and uncle who took him in. Jack ensured the boy and his new family would want for nothing financially. He did the same for Jonathan Penn, whose parents had owned the Electro. It was something he knew Ianto would have done without asking, and he wanted to honor Ianto by doing it himself.

Sitting at his desk several days later and sipping a scotch, Jack wished once more that Ianto was sitting across from him. He smiled to himself as he remembered their last trip to the cinema. Ianto would have loved the Electro, and though he would have been horrified by the Night Travelers, he would have treasured the glimpse into Jack's past, as dark as it had been. Jack could almost hear Ianto asking about his experience in the traveling circus, about his old uniform; he tried not to imagine pulling it out, trying it on, taking it off…

He was distracted by Gwen bursting in, demanding an explanation for the negative rift spikes that she and Tosh had found while combing through back data. He sighed and did his best to brush her off, then stood, grabbed his coat, and told her he was going Weevil hunting. Which he did. And in spite of his agitation and annoyance, he didn't even manage to get killed once.

But Gwen wouldn't leave it, and she hounded him, pushing until he finally snapped. Ianto had known about the negative spikes and Flat Holm. Ianto had helped him bring Jonah Bevan to the island and get the man situated. Ianto had understood the need and necessity of Flat Holm and had never once questioned Jack's actions, but supported him unconditionally. Gwen would never understand; in fact, it could destroy her, which was why he'd tried so hard to keep the secret in spite of her incessant pushing.

He wasn't trying to break her when he grabbed her by the arm after yet another heated confrontation and dragged her to the SUV, and from there to the dock, onto a boat, and into the bunker itself. He didn't enjoy seeing the look on her face as she took in the broken souls around her, and he could barely hold her as she sobbed out her anguish against his chest after she met Jonah. He wanted to run. He needed Ianto.

When Gwen insisted on taking Nikki Bevan to meet her son, Jack knew it was a mistake, but he allowed her to learn the reality of Flat Holm the hard way. And when Gwen finally broke, he picked up the pieces and sent her home to Rhys, knowing he was no longer her hero and feeling nothing like the good man he tried to be. He went back to his office, irrationally damning Ianto for leaving him alone with Flat Holm, even though Jack had bought it and built it and run it for years before sharing the secret with the one man he had trusted with it—the one man who had understood everything about it.

But as with so many things, it was not about Ianto, it was about Jack. And Torchwood. For the first time, Jack wondered how long he could stay with Torchwood without Ianto. It was a strange feeling to realize how much the man had come to mean to him, and how lost he still felt each and every day.

* * *

Life continued. The team endured. Gwen continued to fracture as she threw herself against Torchwood and lost each time; soon she would be as hard as the rest of them, and Jack grieved for her loss of innocence even as he recognized the inevitability of it. Owen continued to mourn the loss of his former life, but seemed to slowly find peace with his new half-life. In some ways, Jack envied Owen's acceptance of what Torchwood had done. Jack had reached an impasse, it seemed, forever balancing on the edge of a cliff, caught between staying and leaving, living and dying, unable to accept either.

Tosh continued to search for Ianto. She worked on several new programs, including a time lock that would protect the Hub in the case of an alien invasion. And she somehow became Owen's rock, grounding him when the reality of his living death was too much to bear, when the anger flared. She was stronger than any of them, and Jack made sure to thank her daily for all she did.

And then one day everything changed, and his world ended yet again.

* * *

Jack didn't think he would survive the heartbreak. He was physically uninjured in spite of having spent two thousand years buried underground, and yet he truly thought he might die from the pain of losing both Tosh and Owen in one night. Owen had sacrificed himself to lock down the nuclear facility, and Tosh had died in Jack's arms, shot by his own brother; how was he supposed to go on after something like that?

Gwen was devastated. She had lost a friend and a former lover, but at least she still had Rhys. She left the Hub and went home to her flat, to her husband, to her ordinary life, but Jack had nothing now. He had no home, no partner,  _nothing_. All he had was the Hub and his guilt. It was his fault, after all: his former lover, his insane brother, his fault. There was no one to tell him otherwise, and he wasn't sure he could bear it this time, not alone.

For the first time in months, Jack was irrationally glad that Ianto had left, because it spared the Welshman the pain of losing Tosh and Owen. Or Jack the pain of losing Ianto, had he been killed as well. At the same time, Jack knew that Ianto was the only one who could possibly help him get through it, move on, and survive. Ianto wasn't there to hold him and comfort him, so Jack compounded his guilt when he swallowed half of Owen's painkillers and went to sleep, knowing Ianto would have hated Jack taking his own life. But it was all he could do, for weeks, because the only hope he clung to now was that maybe the Doctor was wrong, and maybe someday Jack would not wake up.

He always did.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. Jack wouldn't call it moving on, it was more like barely hanging on by their fingertips most days. Martha Jones came to help in the aftermath of their loss, joining his broken team and bringing a tech named Jake Rogers with her from UNIT. Jack tried not to hate him, but he was everything Ianto was not. Ten years older, with ginger hair and a Scottish accent, Jake was chaos to Tosh and Ianto's methodical order. Martha had said he was the best and looking to relocate, and Gwen had approved; deep down Jack knew that Jake was a good fit for the Hub, if only Jack could stop looking at him as a replacement. Gwen had also brought Andy Davidson in as a part-time agent, and it occurred to Jack more than once that perhaps it was time to turn over the reins and leave Torchwood once and for all. He'd found the Doctor, but had come back to Earth for Ianto. Now that Ianto was gone, along with Suzie and Tosh and Owen, what did Jack have to stay for?

It was as if he were spiraling into a black hole, endlessly circling around the decision of whether to stay or go. Torchwood helped with the rebuilding of Cardiff and kept catching Weevils. They chased zombies, defeated sin-eating crustaceans, and faced more of Jack's past, while still dealing with all the other shit the Rift dropped in their laps. They even traveled a bit, helping out UNIT in Switzerland and finally destroying the remains of Torchwood India that Jack had thought he'd shut down decades ago.

Jack felt like a zombie himself most days, like a robot doing what he had been programmed to do. He rarely talked to Martha, barely talked to Gwen, and couldn't talk to the new guy at all. Life was like a waking dream, and he was simply a numb observer. He'd been doing it for over a hundred years and could do it automatically, but he didn't feel anything anymore. He couldn't. When people started turning up at the hospital in mysterious trances, Jack wondered if he was already in one. They traced it to the phones, and unthinking and uncaring, Jack picked it up when it rang.

He collapsed immediately and knew no more.

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are several references to the novels and radio dramas in this chapter, including The Dead Line here at the end. If you haven't listened to it, I highly recommend it, it's wonderful! And then hold on to your hats, because it picks up from here on out! Thank you so much for reading!
> 
>  


	5. Revealed

5\. Revealed

It was a surreal sight: Jack Harkness lying in a hospital bed, unbearably close to death yet undying. Trapped in a coma-like trance, unconscious and unmoving, it was so unlike Jack's larger than life personality that it had to be a dream, or worse—a nightmare.

The monitor above the bed continued its steady vigil of Jack's vital signs, as did the man sitting beside him. Gwen had left the hospital with Rhys to track down the source of whatever was happening. Martha was monitoring several other patients beside Jack, while Jake, the new tech, was working from the Hub, trying to find a solution to the strange epidemic spreading through the telephones.

The man sighed as he reached a hand toward the silent patient on the bed. This was not how he had imagined any sort of reunion would play out, with Jack unable to speak or move, unable to lash out in rage or reach out in forgiveness.

He'd had no choice, though. When his handler had called and informed him of the situation, he had raced to Cardiff to offer what help he could, if any. He had found it easy to lie, to tell his current supervisor that his sister had been fallen ill and that he needed to be there for her and the family.

She was fine, of course, and they would find out soon enough that he had not only lied, but had contacted Torchwood. There would be a good deal of explaining to do, yet if it ended his brief career with UNIT, so be it.

It was worth the risk. He could lose everything he'd worked hard for over the past seven months, but he would have regretted it forever if he had stayed in London only to learn that Jack had not recovered. He had tried to move on, but being back in the country and working with UNIT had brought Torchwood to the forefront of his mind. Now that his life had settled into something almost resembling the one he had once experienced in London, before Canary Wharf, he found that he missed Cardiff, missed the Hub, and most of all, missed Jack, chaotic as life had been with him.

With a sigh, the man took off his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. He didn't need them, but he'd worn them for so long that he had grown used to them. Yet he felt more like himself—or his former self, at least—without them. Grasping the unmoving hand lying on the bed, he squeezed, hoping for a response, but there was nothing. Jack was as deeply unconscious as every other coma patient in the hospitable, alive but unresponsive to stimuli. Martha had told him to talk, though. Jack could still sense him, hear him, maybe even feel him, thought he couldn't respond, trapped as he was within his own mind and body. And so, taking a deep breath, he began.

_"They say you're supposed to talk to people when they're in a coma, don't they? I have absolutely no idea whether you can hear me, Jack. I never heard of anybody coming out of one and carrying on the conversation…so I suspect it's probably something the doctors tell us to do, to make us feel better rather than help you. We don't feel quite so useless and helpless. We get the feeling there's still some sort of purpose in our lives. We're not just waiting: waiting for the science to work, or the miracle to happen, or the nightmare to end."_

He cringed a bit as his voice cracked. It felt ridiculous, talking to Jack this way. And why was he being so melodramatic? Miracles? Nightmares? Well, he certainly had experience with the latter, and if he admitted it, this was one of his worst nightmares coming true: Jack Harkness, immortal yet trapped between life and death. Shaking himself of such bleak thoughts, he continued.

_"I'm not much of a talker, Jack. You know that. And I'm sorry you're stuck with me, since I know you must be confused. I wish I could say more, but now's not the time. This is about you, not me. So I'll talk to you now on the off chance that it helps. Just promise me, if you're hearing this, that when you come round—and you're going to, Jack, you're going to come out of this—just promise me you'll never bring up anything I say to you now, to anyone. How's that? We got a deal?"_

Of course there was no answer, and he was glad, because in his mind he could hear Jack teasing him mercilessly. That brought a smile to his face, and let him continue.

_"This must be the longest I've ever looked at you and not seen you smile. I used to watch you in your sleep. Did you know that? So many times. Just woke up beside you in the middle of the night and watched you. Watched your eyes moving behind your eyelids as you dreamed. I tried to imagine what a man like you could possibly dream about. The things you've seen…the lives you've lived…the people you've loved. I wondered if you were dreaming about me—I hoped you were dreaming about me. But let's be honest Jack: I was nothing more than a blip in time for you. Every day, I grow a little older. But you're immortal. You've already lived a thousand lifetimes. How could you watch me grow old and die? How could I watch you live and never age a day?"_

Another break, another deep breath. Because that was the problem at the heart of their relationship, wasn't it? That one day he would die, and Jack would not. The risk was absolute, the outcome almost guaranteed, even doing what he did now, that he would die before his time, and Jack would live forever. He had seen what losing other team members had done to Jack, as well as the others, and he did not want to put them through that again. He had tried not to imagine that his personal relationship with Jack had been anything but casual, yet it had become undeniable, that Jack cared for him almost as much as he cared for Jack. He had left as much for Jack's sake as for his own, because he could not bear to think that his death would one day hurt Jack so deeply...or that Jack would do the same to him. Because even worse was the likelihood that Jack would leave again; he'd never stayed around long enough to watched a loved one grow old. Why would Jack stay for him?

_"I suppose we both knew that would never be a problem. Not in that job. No one in Torchwood ever lives to draw their pension, do they? And even now, if by some miracle I survive to see my hair turn grey—or god forbid fall out—I don't kid myself you'd still be around to see it. One day you'll go again. Just like you did before, and this time you won't be back. Maybe that's what you were dreaming about those nights when I watched you sleeping. Maybe that's why, even when you slept, I saw you smile. But you haven't gone yet, Jack. I know that. I know you're coming back."_

_For me,_  he added silently. Though how arrogant to think Jack would come back for him, for Ianto Jones, after all he'd done. From his first meeting with Jack, when he had manipulated his way into a job, to his betrayal with Lisa, and again when he had helped open the Rift...to accepting Jack's offer of a date, growing closer, and establishing a relationship, only to leave without a word.

No, Jack would not forgive him, not this time. He did not want Jack to die and would do anything he could to help, yet when Jack awoke, Ianto would be gone, in London facing the consequences of his actions and hoping against hope that he could cover it up and return to the life he'd restarted. No one in Cardiff would remember that he had been there. Ianto alone would continue to live with his guilt, regret, and the real reasons he had left, but it would be worth it if Jack was alive.

Gwen returned then, and he stood quickly, dropping Jack's hand and wiping his eyes, hoping she didn't notice. When both Gwen and Rhys looked at him with pity, he turned away to slip his professional mask back on and nodded when he was ready, indicating that he was all right. He did not want their pity. He had been on his own for months; he would not break down now.

Gwen held out a cup of coffee. "You look like you could use it," she said softly.

He took it gratefully, fingers brushing against hers with a smile. He stopped before sipping. "Did you make it? Because I remember what that was like."

"'Course not," she replied, making a face at him. "I remember you picking on my coffee. We stopped on the way back to the hospital."

"Thank you," he offered sincerely, with a nod at Rhys. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "We dropped off another one of those old telephones at the Hub for Jake to compare to the one Jack answered. How's Jack?"

"The same," Ianto said, unable to stop from glancing down and feeling his throat tighten at the sight of Jack so helpless. "Martha is checking on the others, but there's been no change in anyone."

Rhys settled into a chair nearby, elbows falling to his knees as he stared at the floor and sipped his coffee. Gwen stood by Ianto, gazing sadly at Jack before reaching out for Ianto's hand.

"How are you?" she whispered.

He squeezed her hand. "I'm fine, Gwen. Really."

When she turned to look at him, he was surprised to see the sadness and loss, affection and hope there. "We missed you," she said, a tear slipping down her cheek. "First you left us, then we lost Tosh and Owen, and now Jack…"

He put his arm around her shoulder, and she laid her head down with half a sob and half a laugh. "Jack will pull out of this. We haven't lost him yet, and we're not going to lose him now."

She nodded against his shoulder. "He'll be so glad to see you. You have no idea how hard it's been for him, how much he wanted to find you." She lifted her head to look into his face, eyes dark and confused. "Why did you leave?"

He let his hand fall from her shoulder and stepped away, dimly aware of Rhys glancing up with a frown.

"Gwen," he said. "Now's not the time, love."

"I think we have a right—" she started, but Rhys stood and moved toward them, taking her hand in his.

"We really don't," he said softly. "It's Ianto's business and he'll tell us what he wants, when he wants. Right now we need to focus on this funny phone business, help Jack and all these other people."

"But—" she tried again. Gwen Cooper, still stubborn to a fault.

"It's all right, Rhys," Ianto said, holding up a hand. "Thank you. I'd rather not talk about it now, Gwen. Maybe at some point, but not with all that's happening."

"Can you at least tell us where you've been? How did you know about Jack?"

Ianto sighed. He owed her that much at least. She had been shocked when he'd strode into the hospital, eyes wide as a shaking hand reached out for him. He had expected to be slapped, but they had embraced and cried, and then Martha was there, and there was more hugging and crying before Ianto had demanded their story first, hoping to avoid telling his own. Now it was time to answer their questions.

"One of my contacts at UNIT told me," he replied, hoping it might be enough, but doubting it. Gwen had always been one to push for answers, even when she shouldn't. "Your man Jake was in touch with them. Bit of a liaison, then?"

Gwen nodded. "He is, yes. He somehow managed to transfer to Torchwood without any ill will. He contacts them when we need an extra hand, another opinion, those kinds of things."

"And Jack is okay with that?" Ianto asked. He'd been surprised at the increased communication between UNIT and the Hub, knowing Jack's independent streak. Jack got along fine with UNIT, it was just that he preferred not to if possible. It had worried him at times, that his cover would slip and he'd be found; it had been hard enough avoiding Martha Jones for several months until she had transferred to Torchwood.

"I'm not sure he cares anymore," Gwen said. "Ever since we lost Tosh and Owen, he's been distant. He's still here, but his heart isn't in it. Jake could be a spy, and I'm not sure Jack would notice or care."

"Is he?" asked Ianto. He knew perfectly well Jake Rogers wasn't a spy, but he wondered what Gwen's assessment had been.

Gwen shook her head. "No, he's a good man. Martha wouldn't bring us a spy, especially not to replace…well…" She drifted off, her eyes going distant with pain.

Ianto let his head fall. He couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for Jack and Gwen. He'd almost come back when he had heard about Tosh and Owen, only it had been over a month by the time he'd been told. He knew Martha and Jake had gone to work with Jack and Gwen, and he'd felt like reappearing in their lives would only open old wounds rather than help close them. Now it sounded as if Jack had not coped well, and Ianto wished he had been there to offer support, even as only a friend.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry you lost them." He tried not to think about how he would never hear Owen's sarcastic voice again, or see Tosh's gentle smile. He had left them months ago and thought he had made peace with it then. Seeing the grief in Gwen's face made the reality of their deaths that much more painful.

She reached down to squeeze his hand. "Martha and Jake have been invaluable, but now that you're back…Ianto, you  _are_  coming back, aren't you? You remember everything?"

He glanced up at her in surprise. That's right, they thought he had forgotten his Torchwood life. For a moment he almost slipped and told her he'd never taken the Retcon, that it had all been a ruse, but he stopped himself and simply nodded.

"Not everything, but yes, I remember."

"Where have you been all this time?" she asked.

"Gwen," cautioned Rhys, and once again Ianto smiled at the Welshman's over protectiveness.

"I've been working for UNIT. My contact is actually a coworker."

"UNIT?" she asked. "But why didn't we find you? I know Tosh looked. She searched everywhere for months!"

"I had a new identity, and then went undercover overseas with another," he replied with a shrug. He pulled out his glasses, put them back on, and rubbed his fingers along the beard he'd worn for months, dyed a lighter shade brown to match his new hair color. "Hence the new look."

"You're an undercover agent?" asked Rhys, while Gwen simply stared at him. He found himself flushing under their surprise.

"I suppose," he said. "I drifted for a bit after I left Cardiff, then joined UNIT. Trained after the holidays and had my first long term assignment with UNIT Broadsword in America. That's where I was when Tosh and Owen died; I didn't hear about it until a month after it happened."

Gwen frowned, clearly confused. "But UNIT must have known it was you, that you were Torchwood," she said. "You've worked with them before! Why didn't they tell us?"

"I don't know, Gwen," he said. "I'm still figuring things out." He took a deep breath to spin a lie he wished he didn't have to spin and hoped Gwen didn't see through the holes immediately. "They haven't told me everything and I don't remember it all, but apparently I contacted them beforehand, and they agreed to hide my identity."

"So they took you in and trained you to…do what? Spy?" she asked. She sounded skeptical, and Ianto couldn't blame her. Gwen's instincts were probably blowing off sirens, telling her something was off about his story, but it was the best he'd been able to come up with as he'd sped toward Cardiff after hearing about Jack. And it wasn't so far from the truth. He  _had_ contacted UNIT, only it was months after leaving Torchwood, memories fully intact. They had reluctantly agreed to conceal his true identity, particularly when they saw how thoroughly he had created a new one for himself, all the way down to his changed appearance.

He was lucky, when he thought about it. He could easily have been arrested, charged with desertion, and sentenced to any number of possible punishments for such a crime. Torchwood wasn't the military, but it was the same idea; he had not just resigned, he had disappeared with nothing but a letter. In the end, they had accepted his actions as more of a defection from one organization to another, even if it had taken some work to convince them.

When he'd appeared at UNIT headquarters in London, he had, in fact, been taken into custody. It had been almost two months since his disappearance from Cardiff, and UNIT had questioned him thoroughly, which he'd anticipated. They had also subjected him to all sorts of humiliating tests, which he had not expected. In the end, he had appealed his case to the highest-ranking commander with whom he'd had close contact during his tenure at Torchwood Three, and the man had vouched for him, ultimately claiming him for UNIT under threat of life imprisonment. As Ianto had planned on working for them anyway, it had been easy to accept the deal. He felt trapped at times, imagining it was similar to how Tosh had felt at Torchwood when she had first started, but like Tosh, he knew what he was doing now was important, no matter the circumstances.

He had been given another new identity and placed in Broadsword, which handled intelligence and special ops. He'd started training almost immediately for field missions only to find his short tenure at Torchwood Three had prepared him well for undercover work. Easily able to not only create but maintain another persona, he could think quickly on his feet, and Jack had made sure that Ianto's weapon and combat skills were strong.

And so he had been sent to America for his first assignment. Area 51 was about as secret as Torchwood, but like Torchwood, the general public had no idea of what went on behind the closed doors of the secret base. It was as different from Torchwood as it could possibly be in every other sense, however, from the weather to the people to the tight military control of the base. But he had done his job well, and even started to enjoy it for the three months he had been there. At least until the multinational (hell, multi-planet) alien firefight that had resulted in his emergency extraction. And the two-week hospital stay. He'd spent the past month in the Black Archive in London, recuperating and preparing for his next assignment in Sydney; in fact he was scheduled to fly out in a fortnight.

"They didn't train me to spy, per say," Ianto answered Gwen. "I work a combination of intelligence and special ops. My first assignment was actually a combination of many things. I'd like to think I helped avoid a fairly major catastrophe a few months ago."

"How?" asked Gwen.

"Another story," said Ianto.

"What are you doing back here then?" she asked, and Ianto sighed.

"Recovering from one mission and preparing for another." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "And please don't ask. You know I can't tell you."

"Who told you about Jack, then?"

"I told you—a coworker. My handler, actually," Ianto replied. "Every good spy has one, right?"

Gwen shook her head in amazement. "Every good spy…but Ianto, how did he know to tell you?"

Of course she would pick up on the obvious immediately. "He…well, let's just say he knows a bit of my history. He was right in thinking that I would want to know."

Gwen still did not appear convinced. "I don't understand. How did he know your history? When did you remember things?"

"Recently," Ianto lied. "But then I also remembered why I had left, which was why I didn't come back. I'm where I'm supposed to be." Which was true at that moment, because he was back in Cardiff at Jack's side. At other times, he wasn't always sure.

Gwen leaned on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're here now. It wasn't the same without you."

"I'm sure the Hub is a disaster," he teased. "And I shudder to think of the state of the archives."

"Yeah, they're pretty bad," she laughed. "But we do clean up after ourselves now. And Jake makes fairly decent coffee, although I miss having another Welsh accent around."

He pressed a kiss to her head. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, what are we going to do about Jack?"

Martha Jones walked in then and answered the question for them.

"Whatever it is, it's spreading. We have to stop it."

Ianto looked from her to Gwen. "Time to save the world again."

"Think you still got it?" she teased. She patted his chest, fingering the blue shirt he was wearing. "You're not wearing a suit, after all." He smiled for her, but couldn't help gazing at Jack, worry clutching his heart in spite of her light-hearted teasing.

"Absolutely," he said. He'd do anything for Jack, to save him from a living hell.

Even if that included disappearing again when it was all over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized dialogue is from BBC radio drama The Dead Line by Phil Ford. I have adapted it to fit this new scenario and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Many, many oodles of thanks to Taamar, who looked this over not once but twice and worked her magic to get it right. It was a tough one to write! Things start to pick up now and you might even start to see where it's going. I hope you enjoyed finally seeing Ianto and learning his fate. I think the next chapter is going to be even more of a roller coaster by the end.  Enjoy!


	6. Return

6\. Return

How long he was unconscious, Jack had no idea. He heard voices talking around him as he floated through the endless abyss of his inner mind. One voice above all others stayed with him, warm and familiar. Rolling vowels and clipped consonants and a pleasing baritone. He could picture the owner's lips and eyes, and imagined him dressed in a three-piece suit with a sharp red tie. Yet it was impossible; Ianto could not have come back, not for him. He was gone, living a new life somewhere, free of Torchwood.

And yet when he awoke, Jack couldn't help but glance around the room, searching for the voice and the man he was certain it belonged to, though he knew he'd find nothing but the memory of words, a dream, perhaps, of his entranced mind.

_"I was nothing but a blip in time to you, Jack."_

"Oh Ianto," Jack said, closing his eyes to hold back the tears. "You were never just a blip in time."

But no one heard him, and Jack was alone once more.

* * *

When he asked, Jack was told that someone from UNIT had helped them solve the mystery of the phone lines, a man by the name of Broderick Cole. Jack, of course, knew nothing, having been unconscious the entire time. Gwen, Rhys, Martha, and Jake had only hazy memories of the man, able to recall important facts but not minor details. Jack immediately had his suspicions.

He contacted UNIT to thank them for their assistance, but the commander he spoke to had no idea what Jack was referring to. Yes, Broderick Cole worked for UNIT, but he was currently assigned to the Black Archives in London.

CCTV for the hospital where Jack stayed was no help; it had been down for most of his time there. Doctors and staff described a tall, brown-haired man with a beard and glasses, dressed casually in khakis and a blue shirt and carrying the appropriate UNIT credentials. He was young, English, polite, and had come and gone with little interaction, remaining in Jack's room for the entire time he had been at the hospital. What was strange was that his team remembered a Welsh accent.

Jack couldn't help but hope. He wanted to believe it was Ianto, though he couldn't imagine Ianto with a beard and glasses, let alone in khakis and not a suit. And working for UNIT? Tosh had searched everywhere for Ianto, right up until her death. She would have found him if he had gone to UNIT.

Nevertheless, Jack continued to pushed the matter, growing more determined to find answers every time he met a new dead end. He came up with a reason to go to UNIT headquarters—something about a recent Rift acquisition that needed cross-referencing. Yet when he arrived in London and met with a pencil pusher named Bryan Wells, he was told that Broderick Cole was now dead.

Jack left the Tower of London without even bothering with the Black Archive, since he didn't fancy having his memory messed with yet again. He wandered to a bench along the river not far from the area and let his head fall into his hands.

He had been so hopeful that this man, Broderick Cole, might in fact be Ianto Jones. He couldn't explain why, other than hazy memory and gut instinct that Ianto had been with him in the hospital. He remembered the man's voice as if he had heard it only yesterday, and ached with the memory of late night talks, early morning welcomes, dry wit wrapped in an accent that he'd never forget. Yet again he had hoped to find Ianto Jones, chasing ghosts through the shadows of his mind, and yet again he had found only heartbreak and disappointment.

Glancing up from where he was sitting, Jack tried not to react as he noticed a man watching him from nearby. The man was tall, with brown hair and glasses and a beard…and an oh-so-familiar three-piece suit. A black, pinstriped suit that fit him perfectly. Jack's heart leapt in his chest as he rose casually from the bench, but the man turned, taking a mobile call, and began to walk away. Jack followed as quickly as he dared through the crowds.

When he caught up to where he had seen the man, he found no trace of him, no sign of what direction the man had gone. He had disappeared into the crowds. Jack searched anywhere and everywhere he could think of, before calling the Hub to speak with Jake. Jack asked the tech to go into London CCTV in the Tower area and run facial recognition for Ianto Jones.

Jack could almost hear the other man frown. Jake was his newest team member, and Jack had not developed a close relationship with him, but he knew that Gwen and Martha had told Jake about Ianto. Jake Rogers was aware of the emotional baggage that Jack carried regarding Ianto's decision to leave Torchwood, but the Scotsman rarely said anything. He did his job and he did it well. At times Jack wished he could let the man in and become friends, but it was too hard. Except for Gwen, he'd lost everyone from his first team; he would not make the same mistake and grow close to his new team members only to lose them again.

Jake did as he was asked, and within ten minutes he had a hit and sent Jack a grainy CCTV screen capture of the man who had been watching Jack. According to the software, the image was a strong match for Ianto Jones, but there was a higher probability that it was a man by the name of Alun Matthews. Matthews was a computer engineer originally from Swansea and now living in London, though a cursory search offered little more information than that.

Jack wasn't sure what to think. Was Broderick Cole really Ianto, working for UNIT? Why had they told him Cole was dead? Or was Alun Matthews actually Ianto Jones, now a computer engineer in London who still wore three-piece suits and maybe, just maybe, had recognized Jack by the Tower?

He filed it all away. He had met a literal dead end with Broderick Cole, but Alun Matthews had given him another possible lead. If Ianto was out there somewhere, Jack would find him this time. He wasn't giving up, because he believed, deep down, that Ianto had been the one to come to him in the hospital. That meant that Ianto had remembered something of his old life, and one day Jack would find him and tell him everything he'd wanted to say in return.

* * *

Unfortunately, Jack did not get a chance to track down Alun Matthews. As if sensing that Jack was healthy again, the Rift became active, keeping him busy in Cardiff for weeks. He had no chance to do anything more than search for the man late at night on his computer, when he was too tired yet too wired to sleep after one chase or another. Though his computer skills were reasonable—he was certainly better than Gwen or Martha—he was still not as good as Jake, or Ianto, or especially Tosh. Tosh would have found Matthews by now, known everything about the man from his street address to the size of his shoes. Jack struggled to track down his bank records even as he fought administrators, assassins, and viruses during the day.

And then the Earth was pulled from its orbit by the Daleks, and for one brief, panic stricken moment, Jack lost all hope of survival, let alone of finding Ianto. In the midst of the attack, however, hope returned in the form of the Doctor, and with the help of several former companions, the planet was saved yet again, with Torchwood right up front, leading the way.

The Doctor returned everyone to their homes, leaving Jack and Martha to make their way back to the Hub with Mickey Smith. Jack's steps dragged. Martha and Mickey seemed to be hitting it off, but Jack felt left out. Everyone had someone to go home to except him. He had the Hub, and his team, but…it wasn't his home anymore. He worked there, he slept there, but it hadn't felt like home since Ianto had left. Ianto had stayed there with him so often it had been like the Hub was theirs, almost as much as Ianto's flat. Without Ianto, what was Jack returning for? What was keeping him tied to Earth when he had another chance to leave with the Doctor and return to the stars?

Nothing.

He was about to ask Martha for the Doctor's number when his mobile went off, startling him out of a potentially life changing decision. Martha and Mickey turned toward him, waiting. It was Jake Rogers, calling from the Hub.

"Jack, I got a hit on Alun Matthews," he said. "He's turned up in a military hospital in Sydney."

"Sydney?" asked Jack. "What's he doing in Sydney, and how the hell did you pick that up?"

Jake chuckled. "You set it up one night last week, remember? Facial recognition running in every major city with a UNIT base after we found nothing around here."

That's right, he had. He still believed that the man who had come to him in the hospital was Ianto Jones, working as Broderick Cole for UNIT. And he refused to believe that Broderick Cole was dead—perhaps he was now the elusive Alun Matthews. And so after failing to find any hint of the man in the UK, he had set a broader search, focusing on major international cities with a UNIT presence as somewhere to begin. It seemed his efforts were paying off.

"So what's the story?" he asked.

"He was admitted with severe burns. My guess is he narrowly escaped being exterminated, since that seems to be the most common hospital admittance lately. As soon as I tried to get into his hospital records, however, I was blocked."

"Can you get around it?" demanded Jack, hope rising once more.

"I could, but I doubt there will be anything by the time I do. My bet is the block is a temporary firewall stopping outsiders while the information self-destructs."

"Do it," ordered Jack. "Because if that's the case, then we know this man is definitely more than a computer engineer from Swansea."

"He could be undercover," said Jake.

"Exactly. Find out what you can and book me the next flight to Sydney." He paused. "Dammit, it will probably take a while for the airlines to get back up and running, but I want the first flight out, Jake. This is important."

"Understood, Jack," said Jake, and Jack could hear keys clicking in the background. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you." He paused. "Are you really all right? Gwen didn't say much when I talked to her."

"She's worried about Rhys," laughed Jake. "We're fine. A bit banged up, and the Hub looks like shit, but we survived. Hell, we saved the planet!"

"All in a day's work," said Jack, laughing with him in spite of his negativity moments earlier. "You'd think we'd get more personal days or something."

"I'll take a bonus anytime. And I am totally going on a bender once this is all cleaned up," said Jake. "You're welcome to join me, you know. You deserve it too."

Jack smiled. It wasn't the first time Jake had invited Jack out, and it wasn't the first time Jack had said no. He knew Jake wasn't interested in him sexually, but he wasn't interested in the former UNIT officer platonically. He'd done the friendship thing with his team only to be burned time and time again. And at times it still felt like Jake was replacing Tosh, or Owen, or Ianto. As irrational as it was, he wasn't quite ready to accept that they were gone by embracing his new team.

"Someday I'll take you up on that," said Jack, and to his surprise, he meant it. He did deserve it after all he'd been through recently, but more importantly, hope inspired him. If he found Ianto in Australia, perhaps he could move on. Jack needed to know if the man was alive and well. Once he knew, he could let it go. Maybe he'd call the Doctor then. Because until he knew for sure, Jack wasn't leaving.

"I'll hold you to it," said Jake. "All right, I'm going to start hacking, and then book one first class ticket to Oz. You coming back to the Hub?"

Jack nodded even though the man couldn't see him. "Martha and I are on the way. And we'll be bringing a visitor."

"I'll get out the fine china and order some pizza and beer, then," said Jake. "See you soon."

"Thanks, Jake."

Jack hung up and smiled at Martha and Mickey. Martha, however, narrowed her eyes.

"I know that look," she said. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going Down Under," he replied with a grin. He put an arm around both of their shoulders. "Which means you two need to keep an eye on things for me."

"Two?" asked Mickey, and Jack laughed for the first time in weeks.

* * *

It was several days before Jack made it to Sydney. And by then, Alun Matthews was long gone, leaving little behind in terms of useful information. Not that Jack didn't try to track him down, find out anything he could. He pulled out all his old tricks and turned on the charm full blast, but it was as if the man knew he was being followed and had completely erased his tracks. Alun Matthews was apparently damn good at disappearing, which was yet another reason Jack was so determined to find him. Ianto had been good at that, too.

When he showed the grainy picture of the man in London to hospital staff, they nodded, confirming that Matthews had been their patient. Jake had been correct in that the man had been badly burned, most likely by a Dalek, suffering second and third degree burns on his left arm. That he had survived at all was a bit of a miracle. Daleks shot to kill; the man should have been exterminated.

The doctor would tell him nothing else, citing patient confidentiality even when Jack flashed his credentials in the name of the British government. Frustrated, Jack left the hospital feeling almost as lost as he had when he'd gone to Caernarfon so many months before, only to find another man in place of the one he had been hoping to find. He had been so close to finding Alun Matthews, only to lose the trail once more. Yet perhaps he should keep faith, that this man was really the one he was seeking, if only because he was so hard to find.

Alun Matthews had virtually disappeared from existence by the time Jack returned to Cardiff. He'd asked Jake to try running him down, but the tech had come up with nothing other than a confirmation that yes, the man had returned to the country via Heathrow airport. After that, there was nothing—no credit card trail, no CCTV, nothing. Swearing virulently, Jack knocked a few things about in his office before crashing onto the couch and letting his head fall back. Just like that, hope had left him empty handed. He was certain he had been on to something, but they had no more leads. None. He had no way of finding Ianto short of running into him on the street somewhere again.

He could march into UNIT headquarters and demand to know the truth about Broderick Cole and Alun Matthews, but Jack knew deep down that UNIT would never cooperate. And it was possible, however unlikely, that they weren't even aware of Ianto. If Ianto had created a new identity for himself and presented his new life to UNIT, they might have accepted it. Or they might have taken him prisoner; maybe they were forcing him to work for them.

In the far corner of his mind, it occurred to Jack that perhaps Ianto had gone to UNIT with his memories fully intact, but the thought made him sick to even contemplate, that the Welshman could have done such a thing, leaving them—leaving  _him—_ behind without looking back.

Jack glanced up when there was a knock at the door. It was Jake, looking sympathetic. "Ready for that bender yet?" he asked without preamble. Jack raised an eyebrow in surprise. Jake shrugged.

"Okay, how about a drink then? I convinced Mickey I'm not going to bite and we're heading to the Dockside to celebrate his first week of not dying. You should join us." He paused. "One drink, Jack. It will do you good to get out, take your mind off it for a while."

Jake didn't say anything about what Jack needed to get his mind off of, for which he was grateful. They didn't have that kind of relationship; they barely had a normal employer-employee relationship, let alone something resembling a friendship. It was perhaps one of the first times Jake had spoken to Jack so personally. Yet maybe the Scot was right, and Jack needed to stop obsessing over these mysterious names and faces. Oh, he wouldn't give up, not by a long shot, but looking at another dead end, maybe he needed to stop and recoup. Pull himself together. He had a new team member to train, and a hell of a lot of clean up to help with. And who knew what the move across the galaxy would do to the Rift; it could get ugly if past events were any indication. Placing his hands on his knees, Jack nodded as he pushed himself up.

"I think I'll take you up on it," he said. "Thanks."

He'd let himself go out, have some fun, maybe even get laid; it had been eight months, after all. It might clear his head, let him refocus on what he wanted. He would start looking for Ianto again in a few days, but that night, he would put it aside and try to be normal.

Because normal never lasted, and he needed to grasp it when he could, with or without the man who had once been his only connection to a more normal life.

* * *

Jack was glad he had gone out with Jake and Mickey. One night out had given him release and a renewed perspective, and when the sewers started vomiting Weevils left and right the following week, he was glad for the brief reprieve. It took away his time searching for Ianto, but it also kept him busy, which was good because he still hadn't figured how or where continue his search.

Jake and Mickey started going to the pub regularly, sometimes with Martha, sometimes dragging Gwen and even Rhys out as well. Jack joined them when he could, feeling himself growing attached to this new team more than he wanted, but unable to stop himself. Gwen was happy with Rhys, Mickey was clearly interested in Martha, and Jake was slowly becoming a good male friend—something Jack had missed since Ianto had left and Owen had died. He couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of not being lonely, though a day didn't pass when he didn't wish Ianto was there with his coffee, his smile, his support.

After the Weevils came all sorts of strange cases, including a trip to Japan, and it was almost six weeks later that Jack realized it was Ianto's birthday. It reminded him of his continued search for Alun Matthews, and as he sipped his second cup of coffee that morning, he vowed to go to London to try to find out anything he could. Maybe the UNIT man he'd met with before, Bryan Wells, would be willing to talk to him again. Yet an invasion of alien arachnids kept them all running over Cardiff for over thirty-six hours, and he celebrated victory at the pub with Jake, Mickey, and Martha before tumbling into bed for twelve hours straight. London would have to wait.

It wasn't until September that Jack realized he had not done anything to try to locate Ianto for several days. Yes, he'd been busy, and yes, he still thought about the man every day, but it was as if he had passed through both his depression and his obsession, in part because of so many failures, in part because of being so busy, and in part because of the new team he was finally accepting. Jack felt guilty; he was not a man to give up something that was important to him. Ianto had left, and in the back of his mind Jack hoped that they met again someday, but until then, he still had a job to do. He had lost his way, particularly after losing Tosh and Owen, and though he had not found peace with his loss or comfort in the arms of another, he had found meaning in his life's work again.

Which was, of course, when it all went to hell.

* * *

The children froze one morning in September, their frightening unison voices sending shivers through them all. Jack sent Gwen and Martha to find the one adult who seemed to share in the strange experience. He went to see his daughter, wanting to check on Steven, yet also hoping he might find something useful. Jake and Mickey worked on the strange signal from the Hub, trying to understand what it was, how it worked, and who was causing it.

Returning to the hospital where he and Mickey had found an alien hitchhiker earlier that day—and the doctor who was far more interested in Torchwood than he should be—Jack tried to use that interest to his advantage, only to be shot. He woke to find Rupesh Patanjali dead beside him. Hurrying back to the Hub, Jack hoped the rest of his team were safe; something else was going on beside the unusual incidents with the children.

He walked into to the Hub to find Gwen and Martha staring at the scanner in the medical bay, Mickey and Jake watching them from above.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jack asked, grinning broadly at the tiny red pinprick of light glowing in Gwen's pelvis.

She looked at him with wide-eyes, both terrified and exhilarated. "I'm pregnant," she said.

"I noticed," laughed Jack, coming up to her and kissing her cheek. "Who's the lucky guy?"

She slapped him playfully on the arm before staring at the wall again. Jack turned to the others. "If we weren't in the middle of a crisis, and I hadn't been shot earlier, I'd break out the champagne, but—"

He was stopped from finishing his sentence by a call on his mobile phone from a number he didn't recognize.

"Jack Harkness, uncle to be," he said, still grinning.

"Jack!" exclaimed a voice on the other line…a voice he recognized…Welsh accent and lush baritone…oh god, it couldn't be, not now…

"Jack, can you hear me? Are you there?" The voice was panicked, and Jack shook himself from shock, that this call would come at this time from this man.

"I'm here," he croaked, then cleared his throat. "I'm here, and I'm…I'm…Ianto?" he whispered, turning away from the others when they all glanced at him in surprise. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," said the man on the other line. "Jack, I can't explain, but you have to trust me. There's a bomb about to go off in the Hub."

Jack froze, whipping around toward the others. Of course he trusted Ianto, he had trusted the Welshman more than anyone for months before Ianto had left. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Get them out, get everyone out. Now!" The man's voice cracked. "But you can't…God, Jack, I don't know how to tell you…"

"Tell me what?" Jack demanded. "What's going on?"

"Get them out," Ianto shouted. "The bomb is inside you! You have to get them out before it explodes."

"Oh my god," Jack breathed, then lowered the phone to address the others. "Get out," he barked, waving his hands toward the exit. "Get out right now, don't even grab your coats. Go!"

"What's going on, Jack?" asked Gwen, coming toward him. He backed away, hands up, and she stopped. "Was that Ianto? What did he say?"

"There's a bomb in the Hub," Jack snapped. "You have to get out, all of you." He glanced at the others, still unmoving. "Now! He doesn't know when it will go off!"

"You're not staying, are you?" asked Gwen.

"Get her out," Jack demanded, pointing a finger from Martha to Gwen. "She's having a baby. You get her out and keep her safe. That's an order." He turned toward the others, eyeing Mickey first. "And you make sure they both get out, watch over them. Jake, you—"

But Jake had run toward the other side of the Hub, fingers flying across the keyboard of his computer. "Go!" barked Jack at the other three. "Now!"

Gwen started to protest, but Martha grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the cog door. Mickey followed, but turned back.

"You better be behind us, Captain Cheesecake," he said, looking far more serious than Jack had ever seen him.

"As soon as I can," Jack replied. It wouldn't be for a while, if what Ianto said about the bomb within him was true.

"Jake, follow them! That's an order!" Jack scowled at the man, still running from keyboard to keyboard.

"I'm locking down the archives and engaging the backup server, then I'm out of here," Jake said. "We can't lose all this stuff."

"It's not worth your life!" Jack hissed. He dimly heard Ianto shouting his name on the phone.

"It's not worth the planet," Jake snapped back. "There could be something down there that will stop whatever's going on with the children."

Jack swore again and put the phone to his ear. "Ianto? Ianto, are you all right? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, Jack, although I'll probably be charged with treason for calling you." There was a nervous laugh on the other end of the phone. "I'll be in Cardiff as soon as I can."

"What?" asked Jack. "Where are you now? How did you know about the bomb?"

"I'm in...well, I'm not in Cardiff," said Ianto. "And I can't really talk, your phone is probably being monitored." There was a pause. "Which means they almost certainly know I've called you. Shit, I need to get out of here. Is everyone out of the Hub?"

"Yes," said Jack. "Everyone except Jake, he's locking down the archives. How did you know about the bomb?"

"Jack, did you die recently?" asked Ianto, apparently throwing caution to the wind when it came to revealing that particular secret over the phone.

"A few hours ago, yeah," said Jack. "It was very strange."

"That's when they did it, then. It's something to do with the children. Something they're trying to cover up, I think. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I'm going to have to be discreet." There was a pause, and for some reason, Jack imagined Ianto running around his flat, throwing things into a bag. "Jack, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know sooner, that I can't help, can't stop it—"

"You've done more than enough," Jack said. "You've saved the others."

"But you…you'll be…" Ianto trailed off, and Jack shuddered at the unsaid thought.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I will."

"You'll be blown to bits," Ianto whispered, and again Jack noticed the break in his voice.

"I'll come back," Jack said. "I always do."

"You'd better, Jack. I think you're the only one who can stop this."

"Ah, so that's all I'm good for, saving the planet?"

Jake rushed by, shaking his head at the joke. "See you topside," he whispered. Jack nodded, watching as the man hurried toward the cog door, then turned his attention back to the phone.

There was silence for a moment. "Jack, I don't…I don't know what to say…it's been so long…"

"We'll talk when you get here," said Jack. He desperately wanted to know where Ianto was, what he'd been doing for so many months, how he knew the Hub was going to be bombed…but he wanted to do it in person. He wanted to see Ianto for himself, see him and touch him and smell him and taste him. Even after so many months, the simple sound of the man's voice, calling to warn him of the threat against Torchwood, had brought back all his thoughts and feelings in one great rush. No matter what happened, he was not going to lose Ianto Jones again.

"I'm sorry," said Ianto, his voice a low whisper. "I want you to know that, and I need you to believe me. I'm sorry, because I—"

There was an ominous noise that sounded like a click, and the line went dead.

"Ianto!" Jack shouted. "Ianto Jones, don't you disappear on me again!"

It was no use; there was no answer, and before Jack could dial the number back, his own life went black as the bomb within him exploded, throwing him into darkness with more pain than he had ever experienced before in all his many deaths.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what we're doing yet? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, although I apologize for the cliffhanger. Wait, no I don't -I love them! Thank you to Tamaar for beta-reading this chapter. I worked her hard on it and it's much better for her brilliance. I did say things would pick up, so hold on tight, because here we go! Please let us know what you think! Thanks again! :)


	7. Day One - Ianto

7\. Day One

Ianto stared at the phone in his hand. He wasn't sure whether the line had been disconnected or if the bomb had gone off. Either way, he didn't have much time. He needed to get out of there, because he knew only too well what the government was capable of. There was no question in his mind that they had been monitoring Jack's phone, and because Ianto had called Jack to warn him about the bomb, they would without doubt trace the call and find him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to focus. They would certainly consider what he had done to be treason, and he could not risk being taken into custody, waiting for UNIT to work it out. He didn't have the time. He needed to get to Cardiff and to Jack. Something was going on, and Ianto needed to help, not be thrown into a cell until it was all over and his handler could work it out.

If they didn't kill him first, of course.

While Jack was the primary target, Ianto suspected all of Torchwood was in danger. And given his former relationship with both Torchwood One and Torchwood Three, that put Ianto in danger as well. No matter how many new identities he'd gone through since leaving Cardiff, they would eventually be traced back to Ianto Jones, and the game would be up.

He had an escape kit, of course. Rummaging through the wardrobe in his bedroom, Ianto pulled out a locked fireproof box and took out all his former identity papers, a pistol and silencer, a burn phone, cash, and several other small necessities his training had dictated he include. He stared at the mobile, debating whether to activate it, when it occurred to him that any calls he now made on his own mobile could also endanger the person he spoke to.

Quickly activating the untraceable phone, Ianto paced as he dialed his handler's number. It was still a risk, but a necessary one. When they traced his current identity to his former one as Ianto Jones, they would likely trace him to Bryan no matter what. Hopefully the situation would be contained and sorted by that point.

Bryan picked up on the second ring. "Wells speaking."

"Bryan, it's Marc," said Ianto, almost slipping and using his given name. Bryan was well aware of Ianto's real identity, but that wasn't who he was at the moment, not exactly. He was now Marc Howell, undercover agent for UNIT Broadsword and current UNIT alien liaison to Thames House, and Bryan Wells was his handler and mentor.

"Marc!" the other man exclaimed. "Jesus, kid, what the hell is going on? The chatter is sky high, and I'm not only talking about the kids."

"I know, it's been a hell of a day," Ianto couldn't help but laugh somewhat hysterically. "Look, I think my cover is blown. I need to go underground."

There was silence. "You're going to Cardiff." It was a statement, not a question, and Ianto nodded even if Bryan couldn't see him.

"Something's going on with Torchwood. They blew up the Hub." His voice cracked on that last, and Ianto wiped away angry tears as he imagined Jack, and all the others, dead on the Plass.

"Who?" asked Bryan.

"Whoever issues blank page orders from Whitehall. It was given to Johnson and her team."

"Shit."

"Exactly. As soon as the children started chanting, Dekker grinned like a maniac. He said 'They're back!' and ran off to Whitehall to see Frobisher. When I saw him later, I asked him if it was something that Torchwood should be brought in on. He said they were being taken care of."

"Did you get anything else out of him?" asked Bryan. Ianto could practically see the wheels turning in his mentor's mind, trying to make the connections, just as Ianto had been trying to do all day.

"Not really, but whatever is sending that signal through the children has been here before, and Torchwood had something to do with it. He said they're known as the 456 because that's the frequency they use. I did some more digging and found the blank page, so I contacted Delta Vega." Delta Vega was their mole on Johnson's team. Ianto had taken a chance in contacting the secret agent, but it had been necessary and proven worth it. "As soon as I knew what was going on, I called them."

"You called who?" said Bryan. "Torchwood?"

"I called Jack," said Ianto softly, standing and staring at a blank spot on the wall. "They put a bomb in his stomach to take out the Hub. I had to warn him."

There was a low whistle and another curse on the other end of the phone. "Of course you did. And they were probably monitoring Harkness's phone, so they'll be after you for warning them."

"Have you heard anything over there? I know Oduya was at Whitehall to see Frobisher. Not only is something going on with the children, but I think something else is being covered up."

"And it sounds like Torchwood knows about it, so they're being taken out to keep it covered up. Damn." Bryan took a deep breath. "All right, first things first. You got your kit?"

"I do. I'm going to need a car."

"We can do that. How long has it been since you had contact with Cardiff?"

Ianto checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes. I should get out of here."

"Get somewhere safe and call me in two hours. I'll see what I can find out in the meantime and come up with a plan. If someone wants Torchwood out of the picture, I think we need to make sure they stay in it."

Ianto went out to the living room, glancing around for anything else he should grab. "Bryan, don't put yourself at risk. You're not a field agent anymore, and this isn't about you, it's about my past and whatever grudge they have against Torchwood."

"I'll do what needs to be done," Bryan snapped, uncharacteristically harsh. "It's not just about you, Marc. If it has to do with the children, then it's much bigger than you and your convoluted past."

"Right." Ianto sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he turned toward the door. "Of course. I'll call in two hours. Just make sure—"

He was cut off as the glass in his front window shattered with a ping, and a bullet shot the phone out of his hand. A shard of hot plastic sliced across his cheek, and he dropped the remains even as he ducked from a second shot. It caught him across the arm, the bullet ripping through his coat and shirt and tearing across his flesh. With a muttered curse, he fell to floor and began to crawl toward the door as another shot rang out. He had to get out, and he had to get out fast, with no time to grab the bag he always kept ready for quick travel. If he was lucky, they weren't waiting for him on the other side of the door; he thumbed the safety on his weapon just in case.

Apparently his luck was holding out, as he made it into the corridor and found it empty. Thinking quickly, he wiped his cheek of blood and left several partial handprints by the stairwell going down. Then he headed up the stairs to the roof. Glancing down, he saw dark shapes slinking through the street toward his flat. He couldn't go down the fire escape, then; he'd be an obvious and easy target. Taking his jacket off, he ripped a hole in the back and tossed it on the metal staircase, hoping it would look like he got stuck and pulled it off to keep running. He then hurried toward the edge of the roof to the other side. Taking a running jump, he leapt to the building next door, rolling onto his injured arm with a sharp gasp and another curse.

There was blood on the rooftop now. He tried to brush as much dirt over it as he could before he noticed a pile of old chimney bricks nearby. After scattering them around his landing point, he made for the stairway, shooting the lock off to get inside. He went all the way down to the lobby, pulled a small keychain from his pocket, and activated the perception filter that he'd made part of his kit, knowing it would be useful should he ever need to run. Taking a deep breath, he walked out onto the road and turned away from his flat, keeping his head down and praying it worked.

As he walked, Ianto touched the long, deep cut on his right cheek again, wiping the smear of blood on his trousers, uncaring of the stains. He was lucky to be alive considering the sniper had literally shot his phone out of his hand, and a spot of blood on his suit was the least of his worries. He needed to get out of London, he needed to get to Cardiff, and he needed to find Jack. Or what was left of him.

God.

Swallowing his horror at the thought of Jack blown into a thousand pieces, Ianto glanced over his shoulder and continued his stealthy run toward…what? Freedom? Impossible. If he escaped with his life, he'd never really be free again. He'd always be running, hiding, fleeing whomever had come after him at his small flat in London. He didn't know who had ordered the hit and didn't understand why they were after him or Torchwood, but he knew that he had to get back to Cardiff. He had to help.

It must have something to do with Jack and Torchwood. Ianto wasn't sure if he was targeted because he had called Jack or because he had worked for Torchwood for several years and been discovered, but either way, he had to get to Jack. UNIT couldn't help him because it was possible, however much he didn't want to believe it, that they were behind it. They were the only ones who knew who he really was, after all.

Then there was the matter of the children and their strange behavior. On top of everything else—worrying about Jack, about Gwen, about the others in Hub—Ianto was desperately worried about his family. Rhiannon was strong, but she was probably terrified by what had happened to every child in the country. There was no doubt that David and Mica had been affected; he only hoped that they were safe.

Ianto laughed bitterly to himself, thinking that David would probably find it rather cool. But Ianto knew something was wrong, something so terrible that for some reason the government did not want Torchwood involved, to the point of destroying them all. Even Ianto, who knew nothing. Who had left Torchwood ten months earlier. Who should have been untraceable.

Ianto stopped in his tracks as realization struck. If they had figured out who he really was and where to find him, then they—whoever they were—would also be able to get to his family. They might even be waiting at the estate for him to show up. Which meant he could not go to Rhiannon and the kids, not without a plan that would keep them out of harm's way.

As he stood there, mind turning over a dozen different scenarios, Ianto felt the adrenaline rush of the past hour begin to fade. His hands started to shake. His mind began to race. All he could think about was Jack, and his family, and the fact that he was cut off from almost any sort of assistance. He needed to sit down and regroup and somehow stay alive long enough to figure out what the hell was happening and what to do about it. Yet he was on the run from unknown assassins, where could he go? His flat had been shot at and was probably completely ransacked by now. He couldn't go back to his job at Thames House, he couldn't go to UNIT, and he couldn't go to Bryan Wells. He had no phone, no transportation, not even a clean shirt, and no plan.

Slipping into an alley, Ianto stepped behind a large dumpster and slid down to the dirty ground. He let his head fall between his knees and took deep breaths to stave off the impending panic attack he felt beginning in his gut. He hadn't had one since the nightmare that had been Canary Wharf, but here he was in London, injured and on the run again, alone and cut off from any help. In spite of everything he had experienced since, it was too much like being on the run with Lisa, with no plan, no resources, no hope. Maybe he should give in to the panic, scream and yell until he was empty…

No! Ianto clenched his fists and started counting backwards from one hundred, eyes focused on a small pebble on the pavement. He breathed in with each count and blew out with the next, imagining all the fear and anger being forced into the small stone before him. Slowly but surely he regained control of his racing heart and lungs, and his head began to clear enough for him to think rationally.

He had no phone and no car. The second bullet that had grazed his arm had not gone through, but it was a long, hot burn, throbbing in time with his heartbeat; it would need cleaning and a good wrap. He had no one he could safely contact for help, not if he didn't want to put their life in danger. And then it occurred to him: he needed to go to someone who lived under the radar, someone his enemies would never suspect even existed. And he knew someone like that, someone he was hoped could help him, would be willing to help him.

With grim determination, Ianto stood up and made his way toward the nearest main street. He instinctively avoided the CCTV cameras even though his perception filter hid him, until he took it off and hailed a cab on a quiet corner, directing the driver toward the river. He begged off with a headache from a bar fight after work and laid down on the seat; fortunately he had a cabbie who was either not interested or used to drunks collapsing in the back, and Ianto considered what to say to the one man…well, alien…who might help him.

Cornelius Brown ran The Starry Night Café, which was more of a nightclub that served coffee and tea alongside cocktails and beer. He was half human, an exile who had left his homeworld to start over on Earth. He was also from the 26th century, a fact which had made his assistance in sensitive matters regarding alien tech invaluable at times. Ianto had met the alien not long after Bryan had taken him under his wing, and had liked the café owner immediately. For some reason, Cornelius reminded him a bit of Jack: out of his time, alone and sometimes ostracized because he was different than others, but always seeing good in the world and willing to fight for his adopted homeland.

The Starry Night catered to a mixed clientele of eccentric native Londoners and exiled off-worlders. The back room was for aliens only. Ianto had been there a few times, each one a unique experience, even after all he'd seen with Torchwood. It truly amazed him that so many aliens called London home, and at the same time it made his heart soar, that they were alive and successful and perhaps even happy there. Bryan had told him that the shadow of Torchwood had loomed over London for years, but with the fall of One at Canary Wharf, the small alien community—a few dozen at most—had slowly begun to come out more.

Aliens like Cornelius Brown even helped when they could. Oh, he preferred to be left alone, no doubt, but he was close to Bryan (a story Ianto still could not pull from his handler, although he knew it had something to do with Torchwood One) and had transferred his trust to Ianto. He was Ianto's best chance at escaping London undetected, and he would ask for as little as possible from the alien, knowing he was putting the entire café in danger. More than anything, he needed transportation.

Ianto had the cab drop him off a few streets away, then stuck to alleys with his head down as he quickly and quietly made his way to the Starry Night. It was exceptionally quiet, which did not surprise Ianto given the strange events with the children that day. People were likely holed up at home, holding their loved ones close, eyes glued to the televisions. Only a handful of patrons sat at the candlelit tables, and where there was often live music, tonight there was only soft jazz playing from the speakers. Ianto glanced around, did not see Cornelius, and went up to the empty bar.

"All right there, mate?" asked the man standing behind it. "You look worse for wear."

"Tripped," Ianto mumbled, idly rubbing at his cheek again. He didn't think he needed stitches, but some disinfectant and a plaster would be good, especially for his arm. "Is Cornelius around back, Georg?"

The bartender didn't even blink an eye. "Who's asking?"

"Luke Skywalker," replied Ianto, and the man snorted. It was the agreed upon password for the month, known only to those trusted few that Cornelius let into his private domain in the back. The barman nodded once, and Ianto murmured his thanks.

The back room was much like the front, only slightly smaller and more crowded. Which again didn't surprise Ianto. Whatever was happening with the children was extraterrestrial in origin, and it seemed natural that London's resident aliens would sense it and then gather to discuss it. They glanced up at him, almost as one, and Ianto froze on the spot. There were several more looks of hostility than he had expected and a few low growls. He wondered if this had been a good idea after all.

"It is all right, Mr. Cole," said Cornelius Brown, and Ianto couldn't help a glance of confusion until he remembered that was his name when he had met Cornelius, when he had first joined UNIT. It had been such a long day already that he had almost slipped, and he knew he would need to be vigilant if he was going to survive. "We are all a bit on edge."

"I noticed," said Ianto, slipping into the accent Broderick Cole used and nodding toward the others, who had slowly drifted back to their own conversations, though a few still watched him warily.

Cornelius led Ianto toward the small bar in the corner, tucking Ianto onto a stool and pulling out some sort of bootleg liquor he liked to push on Ianto each time he was there. Ianto watched him pour, idly wondering what, if anything, Cornelius might know; he trusted Cornelius because he knew Bryan trusted the alien.

Cornelius Browne appeared quite human, aside from a few quirks easily explained away. He looked just past middle age, with a medium build and nondescript black hair gone more than half grey. Startling violet eyes, hidden behind dark spectacles, and a series of indigo dots running down from his temple in a complex pattern on both sides of his face to his jaw set him apart, however. He could pass for human, though he preferred to stay in rather than cover up or explain his physical differences.

"How are things in your line of work today?" asked Cornelius, sliding the drink over. Ianto sipped at it and felt his body immediately relax, tension draining from his shoulders in waves. Cornelius always knew exactly what to serve and had done so again, the warm liquor spreading through Ianto yet not dulling his thoughts.

"Difficult," said Ianto, earning a raised eyebrow from Cornelius. "I'm not sure anyone knows exactly what's going on. You wouldn't happen to know anything, would you?"

The alien shook his head. "I have never seen anything like it, and neither has anyone else. It is all anyone has been talking about all day. And no one believes it to be benign."

Ianto snorted into his glass. Every child around the world stops and speaks with one creepy voice? Of course it wasn't benign. It was alien, and it was hostile. There was no doubt about it. If there had been, those doubts had been erased when someone had bombed Torchwood and tried to kill Ianto.

"No, something bad is going on. Torchwood Cardiff was targeted."

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. Ianto knew none of the aliens present had any love for Torchwood, but the fact that the country's once biggest line of defense against alien incursion had been taken down in the wake of the latest extraterrestrial event was something no one could deny: trouble.

"I see," murmured Cornelius, obviously turning it over. "And have you spoken to Mr. Wells?"

"I have," said Ianto, sipping more of his drink. "I used to work for them."

"For Torchwood?" asked Cornelius, unable to hide his surprise. If Ianto imagined disappointment as well, he tried to push it from his mind, hoping that Cornelius would not throw him out on the street.

"I left Torchwood Cardiff almost a year ago," Ianto said, lowering his voice. "Tonight it was destroyed. There is no doubt in my mind that there's a connection between their destruction and what's going on with the children."

"I should think so," nodded the alien. He frowned and pointed a slim finger to Ianto's face and arm. "And that? I am guessing that you were targeted as well, for your former association?"

Ianto laughed bitterly. "They shot my phone right out of my hand."

"You are a lucky man, then," Cornelius murmured. "I hate to ask, Mr. Cole…but were you followed here?"

Ianto shook his head. "I had a perception filter, I know how to avoid CCTV, and I've disappeared before, so no, I wasn't followed. But I need your help, Cornelius. Not much, but enough to get me to Cardiff. I need a car, maybe a phone, some bandages before I bleed all over everything. Something big is going on, and there's a reason someone doesn't want Torchwood involved."

Cornelius stared at him, eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You think that your government is targeting its own? Why would they take out a potential ally? And isn't Torchwood a friend of the Crown?"

Ianto shook his head with frustration. That was a damn good question. Did Buckingham Palace know about the attempt on Torchwood? "I don't know, but Bryan is trying his damnedest to find out. Maybe Torchwood knows something about what's happening that the government doesn't want to get out. Maybe they're the only ones who can stop what's going on. But I need to get there. I'm not safe here."

"Mr. Cole," Cornelius murmured. "You will not be much safer there."

"I know, but at least I can try to find them, figure out why they were targeted. I still have contacts in Cardiff who can help. Can you get me there?"

The alien studied him silently, his face impassive. "You are asking much of me, Mr. Cole."

Ianto let his eyes slip shut and hung his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go. You're the most invisible person I could think of, the only one who could help me without incurring more risk."

Strangely enough, the alien's chest puffed out a bit at that. "I did not say I would not help," said Cornelius. "From what I have heard amongst the tables, everyone is frightened. Aliens that swoop down on planets and control their children are almost never friendly."

"Exactly my thoughts as well," said Ianto dryly. "My biggest worry is that with Torchwood out of the way, the government is going to make a deal with them, rather than fight back."

"Perhaps they do not need to fight," Cornelius pointed out. Ianto shook his head.

"My gut tells me this is a bad situation. Friendly contact is not initiated through fear."

The alien nodded slowly. "I agree, and I will do what I can. Finish your drink, and I will be back in a few moments."

Before Cornelius walked away, Ianto asked after the nearest loo. Cornelius paused and motioned him to follow. "You can use the one in my flat. You will need some other clothing, since your shirt is ruined and you don't want to look more suspicious. I will gather what you need while you clean up and change upstairs."

Ianto laid a hand on Cornelius's shoulder. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this, and I appreciate it."

Cornelius patted his hand and smiled before turning away. "It is no matter. Bryan did the same for me once, when I first came here. There are times when I feel like I can never do enough to repay him for that. I am honored to help his protégé."

"Protégé?" asked Ianto with a small laugh. "Hardly. I've not been around long enough, and I'm sure he's trained far more capable agents."

"He thinks very highly of you," Cornelius said. "Therefore, if you believe Torchwood is involved in this, and that you need to go to Cardiff to figure it out, we will get you to Cardiff."

Ianto swallowed over the lump in his throat, grateful for the support and touched by Cornelius's words regarding his handler. Though he had known Bryan Wells for less than a year, he had quickly grown to respect and admire his mentor at UNIT. Bryan had honed Ianto's skills and experiences at Torchwood into something even sharper, even better. Bryan was brilliant and had saved Ianto's life more than once. He was proud to think that Bryan thought well of him, in spite of his mistakes.

They entered Cornelius's flat, which was above the café. Cornelius directed Ianto to the bathroom, where he began to peel off his clothes and examine the minor injuries to his face and arm. He really was damn lucky. What kind of crack shots missed their target twice in a row? Granted, he had been pacing when the first shot had blown apart his phone, and then ducking and running from the second. There had been more after that, enough that Ianto was fairly sure he wouldn't be getting the deposit back on his flat.

The inane thought about his flat made him laugh, and he put his hands on the sink, leaning his head over to let the laughter—so close to tears—roll over him until there was a knock on the door. Wiping his eyes, he found Cornelius there with a change of clothes, jeans and a jumper that were so far from his style that it was almost a perfect disguise. Another nervous laugh escaped him, and Cornelius raised an amused eyebrow.

"Take a shower, Mr. Cole. I will leave some food out and be back with what you need in twenty minutes."

So Ianto cleaned himself, dressing in the dark jeans and jumper and running a hand through his wet hair. He checked the medicine cabinet for bandages and found some gauze to wrap around his upper arm. It was sore, but he could deal with it. Mostly he didn't want it to become infected. The cut on his cheek would have to wait. Padding back out into the flat, Ianto found a jam sandwich with crisps and fruit on a plate, along with a glass of milk. It was like a school lunch, almost, and he grinned for the first time in hours, genuinely pleased.

He hadn't had anything since that morning, and with the stress of the past few hours, Ianto found he was incredibly hungry, enough to have probably scrounged for a second sandwich if Cornelius hadn't returned at that moment.

"I have a phone," he started, and Ianto nodded.

"Untraceable, I hope?"

"We keep a number of phones downstairs," Cornelius replied with a shrug. "It was Bryan's idea, actually. I have activated it and will send the number to Bryan shortly. I have also taken several hundred pounds from my safe." He paused. "And Georg offered his car, he said that he needed a new one anyway. We will report it stolen in the morning. Make sure you take the gun in the glove compartment."

Ianto stared at him, stunned at his efficiency and generosity. He wanted to hug the man before him, but Cornelius shook his head and stepped back. "As I said, it is no more than Bryan once did for me. And if I can help you, and you can help the children, then it is a noble thing."

"You are a good, good man, Cornelius," Ianto said, his voice breaking. He wiped his face and took the offered items.

"I'm simply doing my part in what will certainly be a much bigger picture," he answered. "Leave your suit, we will dispose of it. I imagine Bryan will contact you soon, once you are out of the city. You can make the rest of your plans then." Taking a deep breath, the alien held out his hand. "And if you need anything else, please get me word. We will do what we can."

"Thank you," Ianto whispered, this time throwing caution to the wind and embracing Cornelius Browne. "Thank you for everything."

"You are quite welcome. Now, do your job. Get these aliens away from the children."

He showed Ianto out the back way, pointing out Georg's old, beat up Vectra. Ianto cringed a little on the inside, but if it got him to Cardiff, he couldn't complain. He was already wearing someone else's clothing, carrying someone else's phone and money. What did it matter if he was driving a twenty-year-old family sedan? He would have to ditch it in the morning when it was reported stolen anyway.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Ianto felt a sense of relief when he found the semi-automatic there exactly as Cornelius had said. He wondered what it was that Georg did besides tend the bar.

Pulling out into the dark London night, Ianto headed north toward the A40, planning a more circuitous route on the vague chance that he might be followed or tracked. He'd double back down to the M4 toward Cardiff once he felt more settled, or perhaps when he heard from Bryan. He wasn't sure it was a wise idea for his handler to contact him, but Ianto needed any information he could get.

In the meantime, he settled into a long drive and let his mind drift over what he needed to do in Cardiff. He needed to get to the Hub and see what kind of condition it was in, and do so without being seen or caught. He needed to track down the others, assuming his warning had been enough to get them out on time. And most importantly, he needed to find Jack…or what was left him. Ianto had no doubt that this could be Jack's most painful resurrection yet. There was a part of Ianto that was terrified Jack might not recover at all.

Pushing aside the horrifying images of Jack's body destroyed beyond recognition, Ianto desperately clung to the belief that Jack would survive. They needed him more than anything. And now that Ianto had spoken to Jack and heard his former lover's voice once more, he would do anything to save Jack and hear it again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many thanks to Taamar for her hard work and invaluable assistance hashing out the details. This story wouldn't be written without her! I hope you enjoyed this chapter after the cliffhanger of the last. Do let a girl know! I'd love to hear what you think about it or where you think it's going. The chapters are getting longer and more complicated so I may or may not post every day. Thank you for reading!
> 
>  


	8. Day Two - Ianto

8\. Day Two - Ianto

Ianto drove for several hours, his mind too busy for his body to grow tired. He kept turning over the events of the day, from the children chanting, to Dekker's revelation of the aliens known as the 456, to his discovery of the plot against Jack from his contact in the Home Office. It made no sense. Why would Whitehall want Jack and Torchwood out of the picture at such a crucial moment? What was it about the 456 that meant Torchwood needed to be destroyed?

It was well past midnight when his phone finally rang. Knowing it could only be Bryan or Cornelius, Ianto pulled over and answered, keeping his voice low even though it was dark and late, and he was alone.

"Hello?" he asked, not wanting to give away his name if someone had simply dialed a wrong number.

" _Draco dormiens_ ," said a familiar voice on the other line.

" _Nunquam titillandus_ ," answered Ianto with an eye roll. It was a ridiculous check, but he heard Bryan laughing on the other end of the phone.

"You love it and you know it," said Wells, still chuckling.

"Secret agents should not use Harry Potter quotations as identity checks."

"Secret agents who grew up reading it, or in my case, reading it to my son, have every right to a bit of levity when things get serious. And things are serious. What happened?"

Ianto sighed and closed his eyes. "They came after me. My flat is probably destroyed. I got out by laying a piss poor trail that might have fooled them for about five minutes, then used the perception filter to get to Cornelius."

"Yes, he contacted me. He said you'd been injured."

"Only a flesh wound." Ianto replied. "I've had worse." Bryan laughed at the joke even as he proceeded to mother hen him. It was becoming all too familiar a routine, Ianto being injured in the line of duty. He wouldn't have thought UNIT to be more dangerous than Torchwood Three.

"Did you clean it? Wrap it? Take anything?"

"Yes, yes, and no." Painkillers would have done him some good, but there had been so many other things on his mind it hadn't even occurred to him. The ache in his arm was still there, but pushed to the back of his mind. "What have you learned?"

"Nothing about why Harkness was targeted, but the hit was definitely on him, and by extension, all other Torchwood personnel. And as of an hour ago, your cover is blown. They're well aware that Ianto Jones phoned Cardiff from the flat of Marc Howell."

"Damn," murmured Ianto. "There goes another name."

"You do seem to go through them, don't you?" said Bryan. Ianto ignored the light teasing. He'd been forced to give up his first identity as Broderick Cole when he'd gone to Cardiff to help Jack in the spring, and then his next cover as Alun Matthews after Jack had tailed him to Australia. He'd been with UNIT for just over eight months and had now blown his third identity. At first it had been exciting to start over with a blank slate every time, to run from yet another mistake, but he was starting to wonder if the reason he'd gone through so many identities was that, deep down, he wanted to be Ianto Jones again.

It occurred to him once more that if they knew who he really was, and that Ianto Jones was connected to Torchwood, his existence put others in danger.

"Bryan, my sister—" he started.

"Already on it," said Bryan. "Rhiannon Davies, Newport, right?"

"If they know who I am, they're in danger."

"Oh, I know," said Bryan. "Believe me, I've played this game before. I've sent someone to the estate. If there's a problem, he'll get them out."

Ianto breathed a sigh of relief before something else occurred to him. "Jack has a grown daughter and a grandson," he said. "She'll be even more at risk if they find out about her."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "So it's true," he murmured. "He's older than he looks." Ianto thought he could hear keys clicking away in the background.

"Yes, it's true. And if they want to keep him quiet, they could use his family to do it."

"I'll get to them as soon as your sister is safe. Got a name for me?"

Ianto took a deep breath. By all rights, this was information he wasn't supposed to know. Jack had not shared it with him in their brief time together, and it was only by accident that Ianto had come across their existence when he'd got Jack's personal finances tangled with Torchwood Three. Being curious, he had managed to track down the mysterious Alice Carter who received such a large sum of money each month, assuming she was an ex-wife. He'd been shocked and saddened to learn she was Jack's daughter, older than Ianto himself, divorced and raising Jack's grandson alone whilst estranged from her father.

"What else?" asked Ianto. "Have you heard anything about Cardiff? The BBC said there was an explosion on the Plass, but didn't say anything about casualties. They're blaming it on terrorists."

"Of course it was terrorists," said Bryan, his voice bitter. "Bloody government terrorists. You're right about Johnson, it was her team sent to neutralize them. They've got orders to track down the rest of the team and take them to Aston Down."

"The rest of the team?" asked Ianto, his breath catching. "So they survived?"

"Hard to tell. I'm not sure Jake survived, because the order only names Cooper, Jones, and Smith." Bryan sounded angry; he had known Jake at UNIT, and from what Ianto had heard, Jake was a good man who had fit in well at Torchwood. "Cooper was taken, but managed to escape. There's no word on the other two."

"And Jack?"

He could hear Bryan sigh through the phone. "They're collecting his remains. Ianto, he couldn't possibly survive that, could he?"

"I don't know," Ianto said, his voice quiet, his heart racing. "If anyone could, it would be Jack. But god…"

"It must be hell," Bryan murmured.

"Yeah," said Ianto, knowing the truth: every death was dark and painful for Jack. Yet recovering from a gunshot wound or even having this guts ripped out by a Weevil couldn't possibly compare to growing back together after being blown up. "I have to find him. If they're trying to kill him and figure out he can't die, who knows what they'll do to him."

"Ianto, he's connected to this somehow," Bryan started.

"Obviously, since they're trying to kill him," snapped Ianto, then immediately apologized. "Sorry, I'm tired…"

"I know, but listen to me. The blank page order was not just for Jack. There were three others, and they're all dead now. Given the timing, it must have something to do with these aliens, the 456. You said they've been here before."

"That's what Dekker said," Ianto murmured. "He almost seemed excited. So if the aliens have been here before, it's possible Jack was there, given his history with Torchwood."

"And for some reason, they don't want him around this time," said Bryan. "Which means we need him."

"Bryan, I…" Ianto trailed off, overwhelmed by his mentor's show of trust in a man he did not know. "Why?" he simply asked.

"Something's not right," said Bryan. "Torchwood is above the police, above the government. Under the direct protection of the Crown. For Whitehall to order its destruction means something is going on that they don't want Torchwood to know about or stop."

"And it has to do with the 456," said Ianto, "who are using the children to communicate."

"It's bad, Ianto," said Bryan, using Ianto's given name. It made Ianto feel more normal, somehow. Ianto Jones was who he really was, regardless of his name, his appearance or his job. It was still ingrained in him, and in spite of the dire circumstances, he was glad to have it back, even if it was temporary.

"So what do we do?" asked Ianto.

"I think you need to go to Aston Down," said Bryan.

"What?" exclaimed Ianto. "You must be joking! That's a secure military compound. How am I supposed to get in there? Barge my way in on a JCB or something?"

Bryan chuckled. "Of course not. You're an undercover agent, Ianto. Think about it."

"I've been shot and run underground, Bryan, I don't have time to think about it," Ianto growled. Normally he rose to the challenge when his mentor pushed him, but now was not the time.

"Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You've got your other identities. I'm reinstating Broderick Cole as a UNIT agent with increased security access and authority."

"You mean bringing him back from the dead?" drawled Ianto. "How biblical."

Bryan ignored him. "You go in and claim Harkness for UNIT questioning. I'll have the orders in the system by morning."

"That's it?" asked Ianto, not even bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice. "I simply walk in and walk out, no questions asked?"

"Oh, I'm sure there will be plenty of questions," said Bryan. "And you answer them. Like I said, I'll do my best to make them believe you from my end, but answer with your gun if you need to."

"Won't they recognize me as Ianto Jones?"

"No, they only know that Marc Howell is Ianto Jones. We worked hard to keep him separate from Cole and Matthews. And you still look different than you did in your Torchwood days."

"But I look like Howell!" Ianto exclaimed.

"Not for long," said Bryan. "Look, I'm sending you to a safe house in Gloucester. Get some rest and fix yourself up. You know the drill, you have to be ready for anything. Everything you need will be waiting for you, along with a UNIT car, so make sure to ditch yours somewhere far away. There's no way Johnson will get back to the base before morning, so you have time. Study the layout I'm sending you, make contingency plans, get in, and get it done."

"So no pressure," Ianto sighed. "Tell me why I work for you again?"

"Because you're good at it," said Bryan. "And because you ran away from your old job for some damn fool reason. Now it's time to step up and help them out."

Ianto flinched. Bryan knew everything, and he was right. Ianto had run from Torchwood, only to find himself doing virtually the same thing with UNIT. Yet now Torchwood needed his help, even though he had left them behind months ago.

"All right, I get it," Ianto sighed. "Sleep, eat, storm the castle. Anything else?"

"Be careful," Bryan said. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I haven't yet, and I'm not about to start now," Ianto replied, forced cheer in his voice. He knew, however, that this was far more serious than his other missions with UNIT. Yes, he'd been injured in both America and Australia, but this was different. He was the target this time. Someone was determined to kill him, and while he could do his best to avoid death by accidental alien entanglement, he had never been the target of an assassination attempt before, only collateral damage.

"Glad to hear it. Contact me in six hours. I'm sending the address of the safe house as a text. Does your getaway car have SAT-NAV?"

"It doesn't even have power locks," Ianto replied dryly.

"Head toward Gloucester. How long will it take you?"

"Ninety minutes," said Ianto.

"Call me when you get close and I'll talk you there. And stay safe."

"You too."

Ianto hung up the phone, started the car, and turned around, heading south toward Gloucester. As he drove, he couldn't help but think that this was the worst plan Bryan had ever come up with in their short time working together.

* * *

The safe house was exactly that: a nondescript two-story tucked into a quaint neighborhood, dead silent in the middle of the night and completely innocuous in its normalcy. Bryan directed Ianto to the back door and gave him the password, and they let him in immediately.

The owners were former UNIT soldiers, retired yet offering their help when needed. After brief introductions, they took Ianto down to the basement, where a guest room was set up for whomever needed it. On the bed he found a new suit, another mobile phone, contacts and glasses, clippers and coloring gel and even makeup. He set it aside for later, checked his arm and took some painkillers from the cabinet above the sink, then fell into bed in his clothes, setting his watch to wake him in six hours.

He slept restlessly, dreams of a burnt-out Hub haunting him until he gave up and rose early. Stepping into the ensuite, he clipped his beard into the style Broderick Cole had worn and trimmed his hair as best as he could. Then he colored it, cringing at the color; it washed him out even more than his natural color, and the dark glasses and hazel contacts did not help. The three-piece suit, however, was practically perfect: black with a wide grey pinstripe, the suit fit surprisingly well, and the blue and silver tie complimented the ensemble. After covering up the cut on his face as best as he could, Ianto glanced into the mirror and sighed. He was growing tired of changing appearances and identities. It had been interesting at first, but the lack of familiarity and routine was growing arduous. If he survived this, he was going to have a serious talk with his mentor about picking one identity and sticking with it like Bryan had.

Then again, Bryan sat at a desk and worked his secret magic from a computer. Ianto was an active field agent, and the risks required different management. He took some time to run through the plans to the base Bryan had sent to his phone, making sure to memorize the floor plan, particularly the exits. His hosts brought him coffee, eggs, and toast, which he practically inhaled. Too often he lost his appetite when nervous, but knowing he needed to keep his strength up apparently overrode his natural tendencies toward not eating before an important mission.

Dialing his handler's number, Ianto was not surprised when Bryan answered immediately. The older man filled Ianto in on what little he had learned since they had last talked, and together they solidified Ianto's bold gambit to get into Aston Down and rescue Jack. UNIT cars had been dropped off in position, the orders to transfer Jack Harkness to UNIT for questioning were in place, and Bryan was planning to block all methods of communication to and from the base once Ianto was on site. How he was able to do something like that, Ianto had no idea; he often thought Bryan and Tosh would have got along fairly well.

"If you block everything into and out of the base, how will I get in touch with you?" asked Ianto. "Am I switching to this other phone? Is it some sort of super-phone?"

"That's not a phone, it's a microburst transmitter," replied Bryan. "Well, it will be, once I tell you how to modify it. Then you'll be able to signal me when you're ready."

"A microburst transmitter disguised as an outdated Nokia," murmured Ianto. "How very 'James Bond'."

"If this were James Bond, Q would already have done this and you'd have spent the night with some pretty young thing. Focus, Ianto; you're going to need steady hands for this. First, crack the case and pull the battery out."

Ianto carefully followed Bryan's directions, ran through the plan once more, then gathered his things. He took several deep breaths before leaving, feeling like he was walking into the proverbial lion's den with nothing but the dubious protection of a modified mobile phone to get him out safely.

Thanking his hosts, Ianto left the safe house feeling like a different man, albeit one he had played before. He walked to the car park, making sure to stay alert, then started the UNIT SUV and headed south toward Aston Down. He ran through every possible scenario he could in his mind, making sure he was able to answer any question thrown at him. One word could be the difference between life and death, and he was determined to survive.

* * *

It was early afternoon when he arrived. The first obstacle was cleared without incident: at the gates to the base, Ianto presented his credentials, the rather ill-trained sentry barely checked them, and Ianto was waved through. He released a breath he hadn't been aware of holding. Making his way to the main building, he once more presented his identification at the front. This guard, however, was far more questioning of Ianto's stated reason for being there. He had expected that, and waited patiently as the officer checked his computer, then picked up the phone and dialed his superior.

Ianto seriously hoped Bryan had jammed communications into and out of the base. If anyone questioned his orders enough to call UNIT or the Home Office, they would find both confused and ignorant of any change in plans. Not to mention should anyone send the base a photograph of Ianto Jones, aka Mark Howell; Ianto was confident enough to bluff, but if they had reason to suspect anything, confirming his identity would only take seconds, and his cover would be blown.

Apparently the phone lines were down, and the guard used his radio to request his superior. Twenty minutes later, a man in black fatigues came out to greet him and introduced himself as Agent Sullivan. Ianto shook his hand and chatted cordially, using the opportunity for small talk to both gather information and gain the man's trust. He remembered at the last minute that this identity spoke in an English accent, not Welsh, and hoped the guard at the desk did not notice the change.

"So it's true, then?" he asked as they walked, wondering if the agent was the anonymous mole within Johnson's crack team that Bryan had ensnared several months ago. "Harkness can't die?"

Sullivan gave him a slightly wild look, as if still trying to come to grips with it. "I've never seen anything like it," he murmured, looking around like he was worried someone would hear him. "They brought him back in pieces, and now he's screaming his lungs out as they grow back together."

Ianto felt sick imagining the horrifying pain Jack must be enduring at that moment as bone grafted to bone and skin regrew over nerves and muscles. He dug his fingernails into his palms, forcing himself to stay focused and not give in to anger and despair. He may have left Jack, but he still cared about the man, and no one deserved what Jack was going through. The pain cutting into his hands focused his fury, and he vowed that whomever had ordered this would be destroyed before it was all over.

"How far along is he?" Ianto replied. Apparently his voice was steadier than he felt, because the man looked at him in surprise.

"It's not a science experiment!" Sullivan said, looking as appalled as he sounded.

"I didn't say it was," Ianto replied evenly. "I only wanted to know the condition of the prisoner."

"Pretty damn bad," the man snapped. "See for yourself."

They stopped in front of a door, and the agent motioned at Ianto to step forward and look through the small window at the top. Steeling himself for a gruesome sight, Ianto gazed into the room and once more felt the bile rise in his throat.

Jack was naked, arms stretched above him and handcuffed to a metal ring. His skin was red and raw, blistered in places, and his hair had only grown partially back. As his hands jerked at the bindings, his face twisted in pain, until he stopped for a moment, seemed to curl in on himself, then let loose an agonizing shriek that curdled Ianto's blood and almost stopped his heart.

"Oh my god." He couldn't help it; the words slipped out, the horror overwhelming. Jack had survived, just as he'd said he would, yet how could he endure such agony?

"Poor bastard," Sullivan murmured. "He needs to be put out of his misery."

Ianto wanted to run the man into the wall, but instead he turned and raised an eyebrow, reaching deep within to maintain the calm façade he needed if he was going to get Jack out of there. "And considering you've shot him and blown him apart, how would you suggest doing such a thing?"

"Boss wants to put him in a concrete box."

Ianto shuddered as he glanced back into the room, where Jack was lying still but breathing heavily. He wished Jack would open his eyes, glance up and see him. It might give him hope that there would be an end to this torment. And Ianto was going to end it, even if he had to shoot his way out of the base with Jack strapped across his back.

"That's barbaric," he offered.

"So is that," the man returned, gesturing at the room, where Jack was screaming once more.

"It's also unnecessary," said Ianto. He drew himself up straight. He was taller and broader than the man before him, and played upon his stature to, if not intimidate, at least make the man take notice and obey. "I'll be taking charge of him. I'll need suitable clothing and a gurney or wheelchair."

The man frowned. "You're taking him now? Before he's all grown back together?"

"He has critical information regarding the current situation in London," Ianto replied. "It's been determined such information could be advantageous and therefore the extermination order has been tabled for the moment. He is to be contained for questioning."

Sullivan shook his head. "As if being blown up wasn't bad enough," he said. "Now he gets to be questioned." He raised air quotes around the final word, tripping bitterly from his tongue, and Ianto nodded in agreement.

"I'm only following orders, as are you. Hopefully he'll not need much convincing."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" the man murmured. "Look, I can't release him without authorization from the agent in charge."

"And who would that be?"

"Agent Johnson," the man replied. "She's on her way."

Ianto swallowed and let his mind begin to go over all those contingency plans he'd gone through on the drive. He'd been hoping to avoid Johnson, though he knew it was unlikely. She was a formidable agent and would be difficult to convince. It was likely that she would recognize him as well—not as Marc Howell or Ianto Jones, hopefully, but as Broderick Cole. Ianto wasn't sure whether that would work to his advantage or not. It was looking more and more probable that he would indeed end up shooting his way out rather than be allowed to walk away unhindered with their prisoner.

"Do have anyone with you?" asked the captain. "He's a large man and could become violent."

"Actually, I—" Ianto started, then stopped short as Johnson appeared at the end of the hallway, black boots clipping a loud staccato on the floor, her face a storm cloud of fury.

"What the hell are you doing here, Cole?" she demanded. In the back of Ianto's mind he was relieved to be recognized as Broderick Cole and not one of his other, more wanted identities. He had little time to dwell on it, however, as Johnson was in his face immediately. "This is my base, my mission, my prisoner."

"Change of plans," Ianto replied smoothly. "We might need him."

"We're supposed to be shutting him up," Johnson pointed out. "Not recruiting him."

Ianto offered a harsh laugh. "Believe me, I have no wish to recruit the man. I'd be happy to leave him with you and your concrete box. But I've been ordered to bring him to London."

Johnson took a step back and continued to stare at him. "You're supposed to be dead, you know," she said, her voice low. "I saw you get shot."

Ianto thought back to the firefight he'd narrowly escaped in Nevada, on his first mission for UNIT. He had been placed in Area 51, and though he'd done as much as he could to contain the situation, it had nevertheless blown up into a multinational incident involving several alien species intent on participating as well. Of course Johnson had been there; it was probably how she had earned command of her own team. He remembered meeting her as things were going to hell: dark, grim, and determined, she was a soldier to the core. They had fought side by side until Ianto had been injured. It was little wonder she thought him dead, for there had been a lot of blood, and after Ianto had gone to Cardiff to help Jack, his handler had decided that Broderick Cole had to die to maintain Ianto's cover.

"I survived," he replied in a clipped tone, leaving no room for argument. Johnson obviously sensed his dismissal and cocked an eyebrow.

"Why are you really here?" she said. "I was told in no uncertain terms to take out Harkness, his base, and his entire team. Why the change of plans?"

"He's met them before," replied Ianto, turning away from the others. "He could have valuable information about dealing with them."

"Met who?" asked Johnson, narrowing her eyes. Ianto gave her a skeptical look.

"Are your superiors not filling you in then?" he asked. "Or did you not see the headlines about the children?" He was still only guessing that it was all connected, but then again, credible obfuscation was the hallmark of a good cover, wasn't it?

"What's he got to do with the children?" she asked.

"That's what I need to find out," Ianto replied.

She studied him before shaking her hand as if she had come to some sort of decision. "He stays here until I can confirm moving him."

"I must take him to London," said Ianto, crossing his hands over his chest. "That's where it's happening."

"Where what's happening?" She pounced on the chance to have more answers, but this time Ianto didn't lie.

"I don't know," he replied. He stepped closer, leaned down until he was almost whispering in her ear. "But I do know Harkness has been around for a long time. He's seen a lot of things. If he can help us, why are we trying to kill him?"

The flash of doubt in her eyes was there and gone before Ianto had a chance to follow through, replaced instead with an unattractive sneer. "Because that's what we do," she replied, her voice equally as low. "We follow orders, no questions asked."

"Then let me follow mine," Ianto replied without missing a beat. She turned and walked away.

"As soon as I confirm them with my superior," she snapped over her shoulder. "In the meantime, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the freak show."

Ianto swore as he stared back into the room where Jack struggled against his bonds. It looked like Bryan's plan wasn't going to work after all. Time to start adapting the plan.

* * *

Ianto paced up and down the small room where he had been directed to wait. It had been over an hour, and he was growing more impatient by the minute. If the base broke through the communications blackout Bryan was somehow orchestrating, they would know that Ianto's orders were fake—and even worse, that he was not who he claimed to be.

So far it seemed to still be in effect; Ianto had tried to text Bryan several times and each had been bounced back. If he had no way to contact his handler, he was fairly certain Johnson had no way to contact Whitehall.

If she had, maybe she was making him cool his heels before officially taking him into custody. The thought galled, that she might be playing with him while he sat there and waited, his thoughts consumed by the thought of Jack's horrible resurrection and what the man was going through. More than anything, Ianto wanted to get Jack out of there. He did not deserve to be blown up, chained to the wall, and covered in concrete; no one did.

Unable to stand it any longer, Ianto stood and went to the door. To his slight surprise, it was unlocked, but he stepped outside to find two guards on either side of the door nonetheless. "I'd like to speak to Agents Sullivan or Johnson. Immediately. I have orders that they are keeping me from following."

One guard nodded while the other stepped back, his hand on his weapon in warning. Ianto briefly entertained the idea of taking out the guard and breaking into Jack's cell, but suspected he'd be dead before he got far. So he rolled his eyes and played the part of impatient bureaucrat, and waited.

Sullivan arrived shortly. "What can I do for you, Agent Cole?" he asked politely.

"I need to see the prisoner," said Ianto. "I need to speak to him, and then transfer him to London as per my orders."

"I'm afraid I can't authorize that," said Sullivan, standing at ease with his hands behind his back.

"Then I'd like to speak to Agent Johnson. Immediately."

Sullivan looked ready to protest, but Ianto stepped up to him, once again standing at full height and using it to his advantage. "I'm under orders here, Agent Sullivan. If I don't follow them, I assure you that I will not be the only one found at fault."

Sullivan gave him a bland look. "We are not subject—" he started, but Ianto stepped even closer, lowering his voice threateningly.

"We're working for the same people, Sullivan," he hissed. "And you know how they do things. How they handle people they don't…appreciate." He let the implication hang in the air, until Sullivan nodded and turned around with a snap Ianto could almost hear.

"I'll take you to Agent Johnson, but the rest is on her."

"Thank you," said Ianto. He followed the agent to another room where Johnson was leaning against a table watching a set of television screens. Jack was on one of them, fully regenerated and now quiet. Ianto felt his heart go out to the other man, that he was going through this alone, and he once again resolved to get Jack out no matter the cost.

Johnson cocked her head when she heard him, though she did not turn around. "Ah, Agent Cole," she said in the same cold voice she'd used earlier. "Come to ask after Captain Harkness, I assume?"

"I must speak to him," Ianto said without preamble. "If he knows something important, we will both be held culpable for not retrieving that information."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Yes, you will."

"You're withholding him from me."

"I haven't confirmed your orders yet."

"Something to do with the phones not working?" he suggested, and was rewarded when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"How do you know?" she demanded, and he put his hands in his pocket and shrugged.

"I've tried to contact my own superiors, Agent Johnson. My calls did not go through." He paused and pretended to think. "It could have to do with what's going on in London. Perhaps that's interfering with communications."

She studied him carefully before stepping closer. "And what exactly is going on in London? What do you need Harkness for so badly?"

"Why do you want to kill him so badly?" Ianto retorted.

"Orders," snapped Johnson, and Ianto snorted derisively.

"We've already established that. You have yours, I have mine."

"Then tell me why my orders changed," she said. "What's going on in London that they decided they needed him alive instead of dead, and why are you involved?"

Ianto wondered if she really didn't know, if she was looking for more information, or is she was trying to catch him in a lie. He took a calculated risk. "You saw what happened with the children?" he asked quietly, turning her away from the others in the room. She nodded.

"Some sort of mind control," she said. "Or mass paranoia."

He shook his head with a bleak chuckle. "Oh no, Agent Johnson. It's aliens."

"Of course it's not," she snapped. He stepped into her personal space, pulling a page from Jack's book again to gain the upper edge.

"Of course it is," he snapped right back. "You've seen aliens before, Agent Johnson. Or was Nevada nothing but a hallucination of epic proportions?"

"I know what I saw out there," she replied, staring at him with dark, cold eyes. "I saw you get shot, for one. You should be dead."

"I recovered," he replied blithely.

"Like Harkness?" she asked, and he stepped back, thrown off his game.

"What?" He tried to cover his stutter, but Johnson grinned in triumph.

"I shot him," she said quietly, watching his reaction. "We blew him up. Yet he keeps coming back. Why?"

"I don't know," Ianto snapped. "I'm not here for that."

"Are you like him, then? Did you die in that firefight in Area 51 and come back, like him? Is that really why you want him?"

It was so utterly ridiculous that Ianto found it easy to let his shock and anger come through. He stepped forward and took command of the confrontation once more.

"I was shot in the stomach. I almost bled out. But I was extracted and spent two weeks in hospital recovering. I could show you the scar if you'd like."

She sneered. "Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not here to discuss my past or Harkness's resurrection powers with you. I'm here to find out what he knows about the aliens who have contacted London and are working through the children to get our attention."

"You're serious," she stated. "About the children and aliens."

"Dead serious," he replied in as flat a voice as he could manage. "We've come across information that indicates Harkness has had dealings with them before. So before you follow your orders to kill or contain him, let me follow mine and find out what he knows."

He stepped even closer to lean down and whisper in her ear. "Or I will destroy you, Agent Johnson. I have far more resources at my disposal than you could imagine, and I doubt very much that anyone will bother to protect you, least of all Whitehall."

The only sign of her nerves was a twitch and a swallow, then with a sharp nod she turned away and crossed her arms over her chest. "You have thirty minutes with him. Get out."

He smirked as he sketched a small bow; she didn't turn to acknowledge him. Ianto followed Sullivan out of the control room and through the base toward Jack's prison cell. If his heart was beating faster than normal, it was because he knew this was it. There was no way he was getting Jack out the easy way when Johnson had dug in her heels so hard; he was lucky to be allowed to even see Jack. Bryan had told him this might happen and to be prepared; they would have to fight their way to freedom.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Sullivan murmured as he nodded at the two guards standing in front of Jack's door.

"I hope he has the information we need," Ianto replied.

Sullivan gave him an enigmatic look before opening the door. Ianto stepped into the small cell and tried not to let the sight of Jack, naked and bound to the wall, affect him. He looked so fragile and defeated, though Ianto knew how strong Jack was, no matter how he appeared. He took a deep breath and nodded to Sullivan, then walked over toward Jack, who appeared to be sleeping.

"Mr. Harkness," he whispered, leaning close under the pretense of examining him. "Mr. Harkness, I need you to wake up."

Jack's eyes flew open, but Ianto silenced him with a look of warning, and Jack's startled reaction was turned into a defiant shout instead. Ianto stepped back and nodded, motioning at Sullivan to toss him the scrubs they'd secured for Jack's modesty during questioning. Ianto began to pull them on, ignoring the blue eyes burning into him, silently demanding answers.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Mr. Harkness," Ianto told him, and waited for Jack's expected reaction.

" _Captain_  Harkness," he ground out, his voice rough from screaming. Ianto covered a flinch with a deft tilt of his head.

"I'm here to ask you some questions, but I'd rather do it someplace more comfortable." He watched Jack carefully as he glanced around the room, clearly studying the layout of the other people. "Will you cooperate?"

Jack nodded wordlessly, and Sullivan brought in the two guards. Ianto rolled his eyes, knowing Jack would understand, and Jack grinned.

"I'll try my best," he practically purred. Sullivan gave Ianto a skeptical glance.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Orders, Captain," Ianto replied, trying to sound weary. Sullivan nodded.

"I'm going to uncuff you," said Sullivan as he approached Jack, his body coiled tightly for defense. "Try anything, and you'll be dead before I hit the ground, and buried in concrete before you wake up."

Jack gave him a feral grin, then stared stoically at the ceiling. Sullivan uncuffed his arms from the ring, then bound them in front of Jack before stepping away. Ianto took Jack's upper arm to help him stand, throwing the scrub shirt across Jack's shoulders. He felt the other man's tense readiness and saw the minute nod of Jack's head signaling he was ready to follow. The guards flanked the door and Sullivan indicated to Ianto that he would follow.

Ianto led Jack through the door, still gripping his arm and squeezing tight to let him know something was about to happen. Jack seemed to understand and pulled his hands closer to his chest. Ianto bit back a grin; it was as if Jack was reading his mind, as if they hadn't been apart for ten months. Ianto quickly slipped the lockpick he'd hidden in the cuff of his sleeve into his fingers and deftly released Jack's handcuffs. Again, Jack reacted perfectly: the cuffs didn't fall for Jack kept his hands against his chest as they walked. He looked at Ianto and raised an eyebrow in question.

With a grin, Ianto reached into his jacket and pulled out his weapon, quickly taking down both guards in front of him with well-placed shots to the shoulder. Flipping the gun, he took the handle to the temple of both men and laid them unconscious. When he turned, Jack had his arm around Sullivan's neck.

"Jack!" Ianto hissed, and Jack dropped the agent, unconscious but breathing, then turned around. Ianto was surprised to see a dark look on Jack's face.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I don't have time to explain," said Ianto, slipping back into his native accent as he grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him forward. "You trusted me before, trust me again and I'll explain everything."

Jack regarded him stonily, but followed as Ianto led the way to the nearest exit. He slipped Jack one of the guards weapons and was instantly reminded of how good Jack was when he immediately took out two more guards who burst around the corner down the corridor behind them. He did not aim for the shoulder

"Thanks," Ianto murmured. Jack nodded curtly, and they continued, moving quickly but quietly until they were able to slip out onto the grounds through the nearest exit Ianto had memorized. Which was when Ianto slid his hand into his pocket, pulled out the mobile he'd modified at the safe house, and sent the preplanned microburst that would signal they were ready for the next distraction his handler was planning.

They didn't have long to wait. Within a minute, klaxons blared and Ianto could hear the distinct sound of doors clicking into place as the base went into lockdown. He turned toward Jack and grinned, and was rewarded when Jack finally grinned back.

"Hell of a rescue, Ianto Jones," he whispered before pulling Ianto into a bruising kiss. Ianto returned it eagerly, unable to resist after so long, after going through so much. But he pulled back quickly, knowing it wasn't over yet.

"Let's go," he breathed, and together they sprinted toward freedom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so incredibly much to Taamar for her brilliant and so very patient help with this chapter! The microburst transmitter is all hers, right down to the dialogue, since I really wanted to lock down the base and couldn't figure out how with communications blocked. Rewriting CoE with an Ianto Jones who has been gone for ten months and becoming a different man is a lot of fun, yet also a lot of work and quite challenging and she has been amazing! Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying the story!


	9. Day Two - Jack

9: Day Two - Jack

Jack wasn't quite sure how they made it across the grounds without being shot. It was broad daylight, the sirens and alarms were going off, and they were running for their lives across a secure military base, yet no one was chasing them. The grounds appeared empty. Jack couldn't wrap his mind around it; it was too easy.

"They're in complete lockdown," his companion murmured as Jack stopped and glanced behind them with a frown. "But they'll be able to reverse it soon enough, so we don't have much time. We need a good head start."

Jack turned back to the man he knew was Ianto Jones yet looked so different. At least he had dropped the odd accent and sounded more like the man Jack remembered. It was hard to believe that Ianto was there, standing right next to him. It felt like it had been forever since Ianto had called to warn him about the bomb, though to be honest, Jack wasn't sure how much time had passed. He'd never been blown up before and had no idea how long he had been in that cell while his flesh and bone regrew after being violently torn apart. Without a doubt, it had been the worse experience of his entire long life, and he did not want to go through it ever again.

Ianto pulled gently but insistently on Jack's hand and led them toward a UNIT SUV. "Come on, "he murmured, "I'll explain everything once we're safe."

Jack couldn't help but give him a skeptical look as he climbed into the passenger side. "Safe?" he asked, glancing out the window so that he didn't have to meet Ianto's strange brown eyes, hidden behind foreign glasses. "We're just going to drive out of here and hope they don't follow us?"

Ianto grinned as he drove toward the gate. "We're going to make sure they can't."

Jack was exhausted from his excruciating death, confused about his unexpected rescuer, and worried about everything else—his team, his family, the children. He hated not knowing what was going on, and he hated not being in control of whatever was happening around him. And he hated that he didn't seem to know this Ianto Jones anymore, who had waltzed in to a secure military facility, broken him out, and was completely confident that they would, in fact, escape. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, but Ianto tapped his leg.

"Sleep later, Jack. Time to go." Ianto grabbed a bag before hopping out of the SUV, leaving it parked right in front of the gate. He strode toward the gatehouse, reaching for the gun tucked behind him. The guard came out with his own weapon raised, focused on Ianto and shouting at him to stop.

Ianto raised empty hands in surrender, which allowed Jack to take out the guard with the weapon Ianto had given him earlier, no words needed due to the implicit understanding of the situation and what needed to be done. Jack was strongly reminded of their silent coordination on Weevil hunts so many months ago. He and Ianto has known exactly how to support one another, in the field and out of it, and seeing how easily they fell back into that pattern made him ache for all the times he'd gone without Ianto's strong presence in his life _._  Ianto grinned at him, and Jack couldn't help but nod back with a smile before the Welshman rushed past the fallen guard into the gatehouse, raised the gate, then grabbed Jack by the hand again and dragged him into the road.

"Not sure walking is the best method of escape in these situations," said Jack. Ianto turned, raised his gun at the UNIT vehicle and fired several well-placed shots. With a bang and a roar, the car exploded, effectively blocking the gate with a large fireball. "Ah, that's our head start," Jack said with an understanding nod.

"That's the idea," said Ianto.

"Bomb?" Jack asked.

"Ten pounds of impact explosive with a case full of gel fuel in the boot," Ianto replied.

"You always drive around with that much firepower under your bonnet?"

"Only when I'm trying to break people out of secure military bases," Ianto replied dryly. "Come on. There should be another car about half a kilometer from here."

"You really thought this through," Jack murmured, thoroughly impressed.

"I try my best, sir," Ianto replied as he reached into the bag and offered Jack a pair of shoes. He slipped them on and nodded his thanks, the simple words tugging at his heart.

"As soon as we get there, I'd really like to know what the hell is going on," Jack said. Ianto started jogging down the road, and Jack followed as best as he could, knowing his adrenaline would soon wear out.

"I'll tell you what I can," said Ianto. "But I'm still not sure what's going on myself."

"How long has it been since the bomb went off?" asked Jack. He needed information, first of all. If he'd been out for days, everything might be done and over, with nothing to worry about but the inevitable consequences and clean-up operation.

"Last night," said Ianto. He slowed down, glancing around until he saw the inconspicuous car parked on the side of the road. It was a rusty piece of junk, the hood propped up as if it had simply died right there and been abandoned. Ianto slammed the hood closed, picked the lock easily, and climbed in, starting it immediately with a key stashed under the seat. Jack took a deep breath and followed, once again stuck in the passenger seat, out of control.

Pulling off the grass, Ianto started slowly down the road, then increased his speed until he was flying quite a bit faster than Jack ever remembered the Welshman driving in Cardiff. The silence stretched between them.

Jack kept glancing behind them, waiting for the pursuit to arrive with guns blazing, but it never came. It seemed Ianto had everything planned. Jack was itching for answers, so he started asking the questions that had been forming in his mind since he'd heard Ianto's voice on his mobile, starting with the most immediate.

"Where are we going?" he asked. Ianto glanced sideways at him, the mask of cool confidence slipping slightly.

"I thought we'd go back to the Hub. I'm hoping the lower levels might be undamaged." He frowned. "Although I didn't think what it would be like for you after…" He trailed off, biting his lip as he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," said Jack. "But we should go to Flat Holm. It's the best place to regroup."

"And hopefully no one will think to look there," agreed Ianto. "They might still be watching the Hub."

Jack gave him a thoughtful look and glanced out the window. "Maybe. The others know to make their way to the island in case the Hub is compromised or destroyed. So we huddle there. What next?"

"I don't know," Ianto said quietly. "I've only thought up to getting you out."

"Why?" asked Jack, and Ianto frowned at him.

"Why what? Why haven't I thought ahead? Frankly, I wasn't sure it would work."

"No, why did you come for me?" asked Jack. He didn't turn to look at Ianto, but could feel the man's eyes piercing him, and the curt tone to his voice made his feelings clear enough.

"I should think that was obvious, Jack!" Ianto snapped. "You're immortal. I couldn't let them keep trying to kill you until it stuck. Or worse. Johnson wanted to put you in concrete." Jack shuddered at the thought, remembering his long years buried underground.

"That's it?" asked Jack. He heard the bitterness in his voice and didn't bother to disguise it. He was angry—about being killed and captured, about losing the Hub and quite possibly his team—and though he knew he was displacing his anger onto Ianto, he was also upset at the other man for appearing so unexpectedly at such a difficult time, even if Ianto had saved his life.

"Jack, this isn't about us right now. I know you're probably angry and confused, but—"

Jack waved his hand, stopping him and turning his body toward the Welshman. "Yes, I'm angry and confused, and I know it's not about you or me, but there are still some things I need to know, need to understand, before we move forward here. Like where you've been for the last year, and why you're suddenly back in the game now."

Ianto sighed. He nodded as he glanced briefly at Jack. "Yes, I imagine you do. Fine. I'm taking the long way, so we've got time, unless you want to sleep."

"I want to talk," said Jack, although sleep was tempting. He was nothing if not stubborn, however, and he couldn't rest until he had some grasp of what was going on.

"What do you want to know?" asked Ianto.

"Where have you been?"

"Around," said Ianto, obviously evading a more specific answer. "But most recently, I've been in England."

"You said you called me from London," said Jack, and Ianto nodded. "What have you been doing there?"

Jack watched Ianto carefully, their time together coming back to him as he read the other man's reaction: a deep breath to relax the tightening around his eyes as his hands gripped the steering wheel harder. Ianto was nervous, even scared, and Jack thought there was guilt and shame in his face as well.

"I've been working for UNIT," Ianto said softly. When Jack was silent, Ianto turned to look at him, blue eyes full of uncertainty and regret.

"How long?" asked Jack.

"Eight months," said Ianto, and it finally clicked. Jack nodded, turning back to the window as the anger and hurt surged through him.

"Eight months," he murmured. "You didn't take the Retcon, did you?"

"Jack…" started Ianto, sounded weary, but Jack stopped him.

"Did you?" he demanded, and glanced back to see Ianto shake his head.

Jack leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He contemplated falling asleep right there, avoiding the conversation in favor of rest, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he understood what was going on, with both Ianto and everything else swirling around him. Then again, this was Ianto Jones he was speaking to; Jack was starting to wonder if he had ever really known the man.

"Why?" he whispered, and he heard Ianto swallow hard next to him. He turned and watched the Welshman struggle with his emotions, swiping angrily at his eyes as he continued to drive, obviously trying to pull the words together.

"Ianto, why did you leave?" asked Jack, his voice quiet. There was no anger anymore, only confusion and pain, and Ianto's shoulders shook as he answered.

"I had to," he said. "I couldn't stay. I didn't plan on joining UNIT, but after two months of wandering aimlessly, I needed something. A purpose." He swallowed and shrugged. "They didn't accept me immediately. It was…difficult, getting in."

"I can imagine," murmured Jack.

Ianto shot him a look of gratitude, that Jack was not condemning him, at least for now. "They decided they could either use me or throw me in prison for desertion. I took the deal and was placed in Broadsword."

Jack nodded. It made a twisted sort of sense, to make use of Ianto's skills and experience. Ianto had ended up much like Toshiko, trading his freedom for the job. "So special ops, then?"

"It seemed to fit my skill set," Ianto replied with a brittle laugh. "Although it feels like I've done nothing but muck up since I started."

"You're Broderick Cole," said Jack, confirming the gut instinct he'd followed for months. "You came to Cardiff when I was in a coma."

"I did."

"Why?"

Ianto shook his head impatiently. "Jack, just because I left doesn't mean I don't care. You were in a coma. That's never happened. I wanted to help."

Jack nodded, accepting Ianto's answer. "Okay, then how come when I went to London a week later, UNIT told me Broderick Cole was dead?"

"Because he was," Ianto replied, and this time the bitterness was clear. "My handler tabled that identity and set me up with a new one when he realized what I had done."

"Punishment?" asked Jack in surprise.

"In a way." Ianto sighed. "Condition of employment, that I have no further contact with Torchwood. You figured it out, so Cole had to go. We couldn't let you find me."

"You became Alun Matthews," said Jack, knowing he was right. Ianto laughed again.

"Who disappeared after you followed him to Australia," he said.

"You have a strict handler," Jack murmured, and Ianto nodded fervently.

"You have no idea. He's also brilliant and terrifying."

"So that brings us to today. Is he helping you with this little adventure?"

"Yes. It was his idea, he got me in and he got us out. Is that enough for now? Because we need to talk about the broader picture. There's more going on here than my disappearance ten months ago."

"The children," murmured Jack. They were cruising down the A33 now, and though Jack wanted more answers from Ianto about his time away, he also knew that there were other concerns to discuss. "But I want to talk about you more later."

Ianto sighed. "Fine. Were you able to learn anything about the children before the Hub blew?" Jack shook his head.

"Not really. Gwen and Martha talked to a man who was affected by it, while Jake and Mickey worked the tech angle at the Hub."

"And did they find anything?" asked Ianto.

"Not that I know of. I was kind of busy getting killed." He let his eyes slip closed and tried not to think about it. A surprising touch on his knee found Ianto taking his hand and holding tight.

"I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered, choking up as he had on the phone. "God, Jack, I can't imagine what it was like."

"Not my best day," Jack murmured, but the jest was hollow. It had been hell.

"Do you know who did it? Or why?"

"I have no idea," said Jack. "I went to the hospital to meet with a doctor and try to see some kids, and the next thing I know I woke up lying dead next to him, and then you're calling to tell me there's a bomb in my stomach. How did you know?"

"Right. My turn again," said Ianto. He was still driving along at a fast clip, his concentration locked on the road before him and behind him. "I've been at Thames House since Australia, a sort of liason to MI5. Their alien tech guy had a message come through this morning on some ancient radio he keeps. He ran off to the Home Office with it."

"To John Frobisher?" asked Jack in surprise.

"Oduya was at there to see Frobisher too, about the children. Whatever's going on, it's big and it's connected. Dekker said they've been here before. We think Torchwood might have been involved, and that's why they wanted to take you out."

Jack gave him a confused look. "But what are they? Who are they?"

"Dekker said they're known as the 456 because that's the frequency they use to communicate."

"The 456…" Jack trailed off, his heart turning to ice. "Oh my god. They're back." He felt his breath catch and then speed up as if he was going to have a panic attack. His past, his mistake, his guilt—it all came rushing back, crushing him with the enormity of the situation. It suddenly all made sense. The children. The old radio. The frequency.

But why were they trying to hide it by killing him?

"Jack?" asked Ianto, and Jack was fairly sure the man had been calling his name for at least a minute as he sounded more and more panicked. "What is it? What do you know?"

"They  _have_  been here before," Jack said quietly. "In 1965. I was there."

"I figured that was the case," Ianto said, still sounding confused. "What I don't understand is why they want to kill you. If you were there, if you dealt with them before, then they should be calling you, begging Torchwood to help."

Jack laughed bitterly. "No one likes asking Torchwood for help, you know that."

"True," said Ianto, offering a small smile. "So what do you think is going on?"

"I'm not sure." Jack brought a hand to his face, rubbed it to keep his eyes open and his mind working. There was still so much he didn't know. "Tell me more. Who gave the order to have us killed? And how did you find out about it?"

"I don't know exactly, but it came from Whitehall," Ianto replied. "Dekker let slip something about Torchwood being taken care of, so I did some digging, found the order, and contacted one of our sources for more intel. There was a blank page order to kill you and three others."

"Three others?" Jack asked sharply. "Who?"

Ianto rattled off the names, but Jack didn't recognize them. "Could they have also been involved in 1965?" he asked when Jack didn't say anything.

"I'd say it's likely," said Jack. "If I saw pictures, I might know for sure. We didn't use our real names. What about the rest of the team? Are they safe for now?"

When Ianto didn't answer immediately, Jack feared the worst. "Tell me," he said.

"Apparently they got out, because I was told that they're being sought by the same team that found you," said Ianto. "It appears the order now extends to them as well."

Jack swore again before something occurred to him, something he had forgotten until that moment. "What about you? What happened on the phone?" he demanded.

Ianto glanced at him in confusion. "I assumed the bomb went off," he said.

"No, you were disconnected first," said Jack. "You said they were listening to my phone. Did they get to you?"

"I'm fine."

"Did they get to you?" Jack repeated. Ianto stared straight ahead, until this time Jack reached for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just because you left doesn't mean I don't care," he said softly, then grinned. "Also doesn't mean I'm not pissed off as hell, but I need to understand what's going on. Did they come after you?"

"Yes," Ianto said, still refusing to meet Jack's eyes.

"You got away, though," said Jack. "Tell me what happened."

"There's nothing to tell," said Ianto, his voice flat and quiet. "They traced the call and shot up my flat. I ran. I spent last night in a safe house before setting out this morning to get your arse out of Aston Down."

"Are you all right?" Jack asked softly, and Ianto turned to look at him.

"Are you?" he parried back.

"I usually am," Jack replied.

"The Hub's gone," Ianto pointed out. "Somehow, I thought it would be there forever."

"Sort of like me?" Jack replied, and Ianto rolled his eyes, though he smiled.

"Did you ever think of coming back?" Jack asked quietly. Ianto turned to look at him with sad eyes.

"All the time," he whispered.

Jack nodded and let his head fall back between the seat and the window. He closed his eyes and started trying to put the pieces of the puzzle back together. The 456 had returned. He had been there in 1965 when they had first come to Earth and demanded twelve children in exchange for an antivirus that would save the world. Their return could only mean the aliens could not be trusted. Were they back for more children? Did the government want to cover up the fact that they had already cooperated once? Were they planning to cooperate again? Were they, even now, rounding up a group of children no one would miss?

Before he could answer, he felt sleep tugging at the corner of his mind. The last thing he remembered was Ianto's hand on his knee, urging him to rest.

* * *

When Jack woke, it was to the warmth of Ianto's coat across his chest, the scent of fish and chips intermingled with Ianto's aftershave. Glancing around, he saw that they were in a car park Jack recognized as being not far from the dock to Flat Holm. He hadn't slept for long, then. Turning his head, he found Ianto sitting next to him, staring at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice husky from sleep. Ianto let his head fall to the side and offered a crooked smile.

"What's not wrong?" he returned.

"I'm not in pieces, you're not in prison." He pointed to the greasy bag between them. "We've got food, and shelter is across the way. You, Ianto Jones, made us a hell of a get away."

"Right," said Ianto with a laugh that was half sigh. "Then let's go eat, I suppose."

Before he turned to leave the car, Jack reached for Ianto's hand and squeezed tight. "If I haven't already said so, thanks for coming after me."

Ianto squeezed back, but didn't reply before getting out of the car. He grabbed the food and the bag he'd tossed in the back while Jack pulled Ianto's coat over his scrubs and followed him to the dock. They were able to get a boat to the island immediately. Ianto paid the man generously, soliciting his silence, and Jack hoped the pilot wasn't hurt if they were somehow tracked to the area.

The staff at Flat Holm were overjoyed to see Jack, having heard about the explosion on the Plass from the news coverage. They'd assumed the worst for Jack and the team.

"How did you know the Hub was destroyed?" asked Jack, and Helen's eyes went wide.

"Mickey told us, of course," she exclaimed. "Come on, I'll take you to him."

"Mickey is here?" Jack asked, more relieved than he cared to admit. "What about the others? Did any of the others make it?"

"Martha is here as well," Helen told them as they walked, the fish and chips forgotten. "She was injured, though. They both were."

Jack walked faster, wanting to see his team. Ianto was to his right, where he had once stood at Jack's side, silent, strong, and supportive, and it felt natural and comforting to have him back. Yet the Welshman seemed both sad and apprehensive as he glanced around the facility, and Jack gave him a curious, questioning glance.

"Never thought I'd be back," Ianto murmured.

Helen stopped in front of them and turned around, squinting her eyes. "Back? What do you mean, back?"

"Helen, you remember Ianto Jones, right?" asked Jack, and her eyes went wide as a hand flew to her mouth.

"Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed. She pulled him in for a hug, then stepped back and frowned. "You certainly look different, but it's good to see you."

"You too, Helen," Ianto said softly, stepping back to Jack's side. Jack wanted to take the man's hand and offer him support; in fact, he wanted to do much more, the long months apart having done very little to quell his feelings for the man. Ianto had left them, had left Jack, but he was there now. He had tried to save Jack from the bomb, had in fact saved Jack from a terrible fate if what he'd said about the concrete was true. Jack knew Ianto had risked everything to help him and suspected he only knew the half of it. There were still so many things he needed to know, but any anger he had felt over the long months of Ianto's absence was muted by relief and hope, as well as the need to focus on the current situation, starting with his team. And Ianto was a part of that now.

* * *

Martha was sleeping when Helen opened the door to where she and Mickey were resting. Her face was scratched and bruised, her leg bound in a cast. Helen told them Martha had been knocked over by a large piece of debris in the blast, shattering her leg and leaving her with a slight concussion, bruised ribs, and numerous lacerations. Mickey was dozing in a chair beside her, his arm in a sling and a large bandage covering what Helen said were a dozen stitches to his head. He had a sprained knee that was propped up in front of him.

Mickey woke the moment the door opened, eyes widening when he saw Jack. Embraces were exchanged, followed by a quick recounting of what had happened to each of them. Jack introduced Ianto to Mickey and shared how Ianto had got him out of Aston Down, while Mickey told them how he had got Martha off the Plass and into hiding while avoiding the hit team. He had stabilized her until they'd been able to get to Flat Holm, where the doctors and nurses had treated them both.

"Have you heard from Jake?" asked Jack, knowing Jake and Mickey had been close. He was hoping for the best but suspected it was not good, especially when Mickey shook his head, his eyes hard.

"I don't think he made it. I snuck back toward the Hub when the sun came up and saw them carrying out a body bag."

"It was probably me," Jack murmured, shuddering as he tried not to think about it.

"I don't know how you survived that," Mickey said, shaking his head.

"Sometimes I don't know either, Mickey," Jack replied softly, then cleared his throat. "What about Gwen? Have you heard anything?"

Ianto stepped forward, a surprised look on his face. "Bryan told me she was captured, but that she escaped." Jack turned toward him in surprise. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot to tell you."

Jack stared for a moment. "Bryan?" he asked, trying not to let any inflection show in his voice. He obviously failed, for Ianto rolled his eyes.

"My fifty-five-year-old married handler," Ianto replied. "The one who got both our arses out of that base."

"Remind me to thank him when this is all over," Jack murmured. "Maybe he'll tell me what you've been up to for the last eight months."

"I'll tell you myself," said Ianto, his tone laced with frustration and weariness. "But we have other priorities right now."

"I know, I know," Jack grumbled. "I was trying to lighten the mood." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So if Gwen escaped, where is she?"

"Right behind you," said a voice in the doorway. Gwen stood there with Rhys, eyes wide as she stared at the ragtag group in the small, dark room. Jack, wearing scrubs and Ianto's coat; Ianto, with his glasses and a beard; Martha, waking up and looking around in confusion; and Mickey, bandaged and grinning at her.

"Gwen Cooper, nice of you to show up," Jack drawled. He stood and hurried to embrace her, shaking hands with Rhys. When he turned back to his team, Gwen was checking on Martha and Mickey before moving toward Ianto, who had retreated toward a dark corner, as if trying to lose himself in shadows. He watched her warily as she moved closer.

"Ianto?" she whispered, and he nodded, then took off his glasses and shoved them in a pocket.

"Hi, Gwen," he said softly.

She lifted a shaking hand to his face, running her fingers along the short beard. And then they all winced as she pulled back and slapped him hard, leaving a large red imprint upon his cheek.

"That's for leaving us," she said before she threw herself into his arms. He looked startled as he wrapped his hands around her back, glancing at Rhys in confusion. "And that's for coming back," she whispered.

He kissed the top of her head and exchanged a look with Jack, his eyes bright with tears.

"I'm so sorry," Ianto whispered.

"I know," Jack mouthed back. And he did. He could see how much Ianto regretted hurting them. The question now was how did they move forward when the world might be coming to an end?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you thank you Taamar! I can't say it enough.
> 
> This one is the first of several talks I suspect Jack and Ianto will be having over the course of this story. The next chapter is quite a bit longer and sees them all settle at Flat Holm, talk some more, and work out a plan of sorts. Hopefully something a bit more successful than canon! Thanks again!
> 
>  


	10. Day Two - Ianto Again

10\. Day Two - Ianto

Ianto stepped back once more as Gwen and Rhys pulled up chairs to sit with Jack and Mickey by Martha's bed. They were Jack's team now; he was no longer a part of it. He felt out of place and unsure, and though he had no regrets whatsoever about breaking his cover to save Jack, he wondered what he had sacrificed to do so. His life with UNIT had been brief but mostly satisfying. Yes, it had felt empty and incomplete at times, but so had life with Torchwood.

At least at Torchwood he'd had Jack.

Shaking his head of such thoughts, Ianto turned and quietly left the room. He tried to remember where the kitchen was from the times he'd visited the island, both with Jack and on his own when Jack had left them. The first time had been not long after Lisa had died, as if Jack had sensed Ianto's need to make amends for his actions. He'd trusted Ianto not only with the secret of Flat Holm, but tasked him with making it a better place. Ianto liked to think that he had made a difference, but as he walked through the dark corridors and heard the occasional scream from one of the residents, he wondered if any of it had mattered, or if it was the situation speaking to his grim state of mind.

When he arrived at the kitchen, he found the coffee maker and some coffee, and though it wasn't the high quality beverage he'd often treated the staff to when he'd visited, he could at least brew and prepare it properly. That was what he had done for the team, after all. It may have been only a small part of his duties at Torchwood, but he was proud of his coffee because it was part of his ability to quietly take care of others. He'd liked that the team had enjoyed it and sometimes, after a particularly long day, had even depended on it. On him. It was easy to fall back into old habits, it seemed.

As he waited, he searched the cupboards for cups. He set them on a tray, added some milk and sugar, and then waited, his thoughts running pell-mell through his mind. Jack had asked, 'What next?' in the car. Indeed, what did he do next?

Should he risk contacting Bryan, or work on his own from this point on? Should he stay with the Torchwood team he no longer belonged to, or should he go back to London and try to stay under the radar? He knew what he  _wanted_  to do, but he wasn't sure if he was thinking with his head or his heart, or if he was too tired to even be thinking straight at all.

He closed his eyes momentarily only to open them when he heard someone join him in the kitchen. Expecting Jack or one of the facility staff, he was mildly surprised to see that it was Gwen. He wondered if the others had put her up to it, or if she had taken it upon herself to find him.

"Jack had a feeling this was where you'd be," she murmured. "Somewhere with coffee." She leaned against the counter opposite from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

Ianto wasn't sure what to say about that. He wasn't sure what to say at all, considering Gwen's first instinct had been to slap him. His face still smarted where her hand had left its mark. Subconsciously, his hand came up to rub at it, and she frowned somewhat sheepishly before wetting a cloth in cold water and holding it out to him.

"I'm sorry," she said, placing it against his face anyway when he refused it. "I know that was a hell of a way to greet you after ten months, but Ianto…do you have any idea what your leaving did to us? What coming back means?"

"My face certainly does," he murmured.

She stared into his eyes for a few moments before setting down the rag, wrapping her arms around him, and laying her head on his chest. "We missed you. Tosh had no one to technobabble with, Owen had no one to snark around with. And Jack…" He felt her shudder against him. "Jack was devastated, Ianto. How could you do that to us?"

He cleared his throat before trying to speak. "I had to," he said. "At the time, it seemed to be only thing I could do." He tilted her chin up to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But I know I was wrong to leave the way I did, and I'll do whatever I can to make it right."

She laughed nervously as she leaned into him again. "I thought you were the only one who could help after you called us. Rhys and I made it all the way to London, determined to find you, when someone from the Home Office told us you'd already gone on the run. When she said Jack had been captured but escaped, I knew it had to be you." She sighed. "You came back for Jack."

"I came back for all of you," he said. "I couldn't let you die, not if I could do something to help. And when I found out about Jack, where they were holding him, I couldn't leave him there. He might be the only one who can figure out what's going on."

"That's not the only reason, is it?" she asked quietly, and he sighed. It was the same thing Jack had asked him.

"Of course not," Ianto told her. "But that's not what we need to focus on right now, all right? There will be time to deal with…well, with everything else later."

"But—" she started, and Ianto was reminded of his encounter with her at the hospital when Jack had been in a coma. He wondered if it would come back to her, or the others; if his presence would trigger the memories he had taken from them with Retcon. They'd probably be angry at him all over again.

As he had been at the hospital, he was once again saved from the grim determination of Gwen Cooper, though not by Rhys this time.

"Later, Gwen," said Jack, appearing in the kitchen. "Ianto's right, right now we need to focus. Share our information, pool our resources, figure out what the hell is going on, and what we're going to do about it." He stopped and grinned. "And something to eat would be good too."

"Coffee's brewing," said Ianto, pushing up from the counter. "I'm sure we could find something to go with the fish and chips, share it all around." He began scrounging through the cabinets, deciding something simple like sandwiches would probably work best.

"Have you eaten anything?" Jack asked Gwen. "I don't care what else is going on, you need to take extra good care of yourself now."

"I'm fine, Jack," she replied. Ianto moved toward the refrigerator, hoping to find more sandwich fixings. He took some meat, cheese, and vegetables from the shelves along with several condiments. "And I hope you don't plan on acting all mother hen for the next ninth months."

Ianto's head shot up. "Nine months?" he asked. "Are you…you're not…"

Gwen grinned broadly, though she shrugged with a sort of pleased embarrassment. "I am. Found out yesterday."

"Hell of a day to find out," Ianto murmured. He set the bread down and pulled her into another embrace. "Congratulations," he said. "You'll be a brilliant mum."

"I'll be rubbish," she laughed. "Rhys will be brilliant."

"Please tell me you've told him," said Jack, sounding apprehensive. "He hates it when you tell me things before him."

"Of course I told him, you numpty!" She laughed and punched Jack on the arm. Ianto watched them and was struck by a deep sense of longing, of homesickness. He missed this, joking around with the team. He missed them. He missed Tosh and Owen…

Turning around, he busied himself with food, trying not to break down. He heard Gwen's footsteps leave the kitchen, but sensed Jack still behind him and tried to ignore the eyes boring into the back of his head.

"You don't have to do this, you know," said Jack from behind him.

"I'm hungry too," said Ianto.

"But you don't have to do all  _this,"_ Jack emphasized. "Make coffee, get the food. You don't have to take care of us anymore."

"It's what I did," said Ianto. "It was my job. I was good at it."

"Probably shouldn't have left it, then," Jack replied. Ianto imagined Jack leaning against the counter behind him, arms tucked under each other and a smirk on his face. He placed his hands on the counter in front of him and let his head fall with a sigh.

"Don't you think I thought about that every day?" he whispered. "That I questioned and doubted and regretted a decision that at the time seemed so right? That if I had stayed, maybe things would be different?"

"How so?" Jack asked, as if they were simply having a casual conversation about the weather or the latest rugby match between England and Wales.

"I don't know!" Ianto exclaimed, throwing his hands up and turning around. He did know, but he didn't want to say it, because saying it might make it true. "A thousand things could have gone differently—"

"You could be dead," Jack pointed out. His voice was flat now, hard and to the point. Ianto glared at him.

"Or Tosh and Owen might still be alive if I'd been there to help!"

"You don't know that." Jack took several steps closer. "And frankly, I don't believe it. There was nothing you could have done, nothing any of us could have done. It's more likely you would have died with them."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Ianto muttered, stung by Jack's words.

"I'm serious," Jack almost hissed, anger coming through clearly now. "Don't blame yourself for anything that happened after you left. I know better than anyone that it doesn't accomplish a damn thing. It doesn't change anything, it doesn't fix anything. The past is the past."

Ianto looked away with no idea how to respond. Logically, he knew that Jack was right, but knowing such a thing had never stopped him before from obsessing over past mistakes, replaying them in his mind over and over to find the moments where he could have done something differently, from Canary Wharf to Lisa's death, from his capture by cannibals to his run-in with Daleks in Australia. There was always something he second-guessed, and he'd not been in Torchwood nearly as long as Jack. Sometimes he wondered how Jack lived with himself and all that he had seen and done.

Which reminded him of something Jack had said in the car, and gave him a chance to change the subject as well.

"Jack, what happened in 1965?" he asked. Jack stepped back, looking surprised, and Ianto shrugged as he turned back to gather the food. "Speaking of the past."

Jack was quiet behind him for so long that Ianto turned back, only to find Jack staring at the cabinets with a look of such pain and loss Ianto thought Jack might fall apart right there. "What is it?" he asked softly, unable to resist reaching out to Jack. As soon as he touched Jack's arm, the other man grabbed him and held him tight.

"Promise me you won't hate me when I tell you." Jack's eyes bore into his own with such shame and fear, Ianto almost stepped away. Instead he nodded slowly.

"All right," he said, but Jack shook his head and placed a hand on either side of Ianto's shoulders.

"I wasn't the same man back then. It was forty years ago. I was a different person," he repeated.

Ianto was still confused, and a little frightened as well. For Jack to be so worried about his past could only mean it was darker than usual. He took a deep breath, prepared to put it all on the line and pledge his support, no matter what.

"I know who are you now, Jack," he told the other man. "That's what matters. What happened then is over. The past is the past, like you said."

Jack did not look convinced, but Ianto was determined to move on. "Come on, help me with the food. We'll go back to Martha's room and have something to eat before you tell everyone what you know."

"Okay," said Jack, though he didn't move. "But I need to tell you first, before the others. I need you to know, so that you can decide whether or not you want to be a part of this."

"Jack, that's ridiculous!" Ianto exclaimed. If he had been questioning what course of action to take earlier, he no longer had any doubts and voiced his desire. "Of course I want to be a part of it. I want to help if you'll let me, and nothing will change that."

Jack looked like he might actually be sick. "This could. In 1965, I was asked to help with a situation involving a hostile alien known as the 456. They had contacted Britain and demanded twelve children in exchange for an antivirus that would save millions of lives."

"Twelve children?" Ianto felt his heart freeze. Did that have something to do with why the children stopped and chanted? "Did you give them the children?"

"There was going to be an epidemic and millions would have died. It was twelve children who wouldn't be missed—orphans from Scotland—in exchange for the lives of millions of people around the world."

"And you were there?" Ianto whispered, trying to imagine the horrific ultimatum. It was blackmail, pure and simple: give us twelve children or an epidemic will decimate the rest of the population. A sacrifice of twelve for the lives of billions. It was not unlike what had happened with Jasmine Pierce and the fairies, and once again, Jack had been at the center of one of the most difficult decisions anyone had ever faced.

"I gave them the children," Jack replied as quietly as Ianto. "And now they're back."

For a long minute they simply stared at one another, at a loss for words, until Ianto stepped forward, placed a hand on Jack's shoulder and gently pulled him forward into a loose embrace. Jack let his head fall to Ianto's shoulder and held him tight, and Ianto melted into it, taking as much comfort as he gave. It had been ten months since he'd held or been held by Jack, after all. He was disturbed by Jack's confession, but sensed Jack was even more devastated by having to make it.

"Come on," he said when he pulled away. "Let's go back to the others."

Jack picked up a tray of food and started out of the kitchen. "Don't forget the coffee," he said over his shoulder. "Or there might be a mutiny."

Ianto rolled his eyes at Jack's obvious attempt at deflection, and joined him, coffee tray securely in hand.

* * *

"All right, people, what do we know?"

Jack's question was met with silence. They had finished eating, and everyone had a coffee cup to their mouth. Most avoided Jack's eyes as they sipped without answering. Jack sighed, sounding exasperated.

"Fine, let's work backwards, then, starting with last night. The Hub was blown up by a bomb planted in my stomach. Ianto, can you tell us everything you know about that?"

Ianto glanced up in surprised, hoping he'd be able to sit out most of the conversation and simply process what the others had to offer. Now it appeared that Jack was going to put him on the spot first. And that meant on top of sharing what he knew, he had to share at least a bit of  _how_  he knew it.

"I've been working with UNIT for several months," he began, continuing quickly when he saw both Gwen and Martha's looks of surprise. "Currently I am—or was—at Thames House as a liaison to the alien tech division of MI-5. Yesterday morning, before the children started chanting, an alien message was intercepted by Leon Dekker, their head of alien technology."

Jack nodded to encourage him. Ianto set down his coffee and continued.

"He took the message to the Home Office. When I asked him about contacting Torchwood, he told me that Torchwood would be taken care of. Something didn't sound right, so I did a bit of covert digging. I found a blank page order from the Home Office for the execution of four people, one of whom was Jack."

"How did you know about the bomb?" asked Gwen, unable to resist jumping in any longer. Ianto was surprised she had held out as long as she had.

"I contacted one of our sources. After I informed Jack, an attempt was made on my life as well."

Gwen gasped. "Are you all right?"

"I escaped," Ianto replied dryly. He ran a finger down the cut on his face. "Just this, although I should probably have someone take a look at my arm now that I'm surrounded by doctors and nurses." As soon as he said it, his arm started throbbing. Jack frowned at him.

"You didn't say anything about being injured," he pointed out.

"We've been busy," Ianto replied. "With more important things. I was able to escape and get help. My handler got in touch and told me that the order has been extended to the rest of the team." He paused. "And myself, as both Ianto Jones and my former identity."

"So your cover is blown?" asked Mickey, and Ianto nodded.

"My last one, yes. After spending the night at a safehouse, I got in touch with my handler again. We used another one of my identities to get me into the military base where Jack was being held. We got out and came here." Jack was looking at him with a complex mix of fondness and admiration, and Ianto had to glance away.

"Why would they want Jack dead?" asked Martha. "And what does this have to do with the children?"

Ianto glanced uncertainly at Jack. This part was Jack's story, and Ianto would not reveal the details of Jack's involvement forty years ago if Jack did not wish him to. Fortunately Jack took over the conversation.

"The aliens who left the message have been here before. We called them the 456 because of the frequency they used to broadcast their messages. The last time they were here, they demanded twelve children in exchange for an antivirus to save millions."

Martha gasped, and Gwen looked positively shocked; Mickey and Rhys shook their heads.

"We gave them the children?" Mickey finally asked when no one else spoke.

"That was the threat, and the deal. That a mutating flu virus would kill millions unless we gave them twelve children in exchange for the cure." Jack's voice was flat, his eyes distant as he refused to meet anyone's eyes. Ianto felt his heart go out to the man, because he could only imagine what the confession was costing Jack.

"What do you mean by 'we', Jack?" asked Gwen, her voice quiet and deadly sounding. "Tell me you weren't a part of it."

Jack took a deep breath and met her wide eyes head on. "I was there. I'm guessing the other three on the list were also involved as well, although we didn't use our real names so I can't be sure. We gave the 456 the children, and we haven't heard from them for over forty years. We assumed the deal had worked and that the planet was safe. Only now they're back."

"Why?" asked Martha. "Do they want more children?"

When Jack shrugged, Ianto stepped back into the conversation. "I don't know what the content of the message was, but it could be something similar. They may want more children in exchange for something else. And it seems to me…" He trailed off, meeting Jack's eyes and hating the pain he saw there, knowing he was about to create more.

"What?" asked Mickey, speaking for them all. "Spit it out. It can hardly get worse, can it?"

"If the government is trying to cover up what happened last time, it would seem to me that they intend to cooperate again. Why cover up the past if they were going to resist this time?"

"You really think they might want more children?" asked Gwen sharply. "And that the government would do such a thing?"

"I think it's very possible, yes." He met Jack's eyes and offered both silent apology and unconditional support. "And I think we need to stand up to them, or they may be back in another forty years."

Jack stared hard at him before jumping up and beginning to pace. "I agree. We need to assume the worst and be prepared to fight back this time. What are our resources?"

Again there was silence. Ianto did not feel it was his place to speak up, given that he was no longer a part of the team. Yet once again, Jack turned to him first, as if Ianto was still the one he counted on, and not one of the others.

"Ianto? What have we got?"

"We're all on the hit list now, so we're limited in where we can go and what we can do. I'd say we've got whatever's available here at Flat Holm." He paused and shrugged, hands tucked into his pockets. "I don't know what that is, however. I've been out of the loop for a while."

"This is a medical facility, not the Hub," Jack replied, arms crossed in front of him. "So we'll have some basics but not much. What do we need?" Ianto was struck by how familiar this was, how normal it felt. Once again it was as if he had never left.

"We need information," said Gwen before Ianto could answer. "We need to know what's going on—at Thames House, at Whitehall, everywhere."

"Ianto, you've got a source in Whitehall, right?"

"Sort of," said Ianto. "They're taking orders from Whitehall, anyway. But I'd say the more involved this gets, the more it will stay behind closed doors. The less they'll know, and the more they might be at risk for exposure."

"So we need to get behind those doors," said Jack. "Mickey, what can you do for us?"

Mickey grimaced. "Not much with a broken arm, a few old computers, and some medical equipment."

"Could you hack into the Thames House system?" asked Ianto. "Security, cameras, that sort of thing?"

"I could do it from the Hub, sure," said Mickey. "But I don't know if I can do it from here."

"Gwen's right, we need information," said Jack. "And I think Ianto's right about our way in. Mickey, scour the island, scrounge up what you can use to set up a decent computer system, and let me know what else you need."

Mickey mock saluted with his uninjured arm. "Back in an hour, boss."

"What about us, Jack?" asked Gwen. "I can talk to Lois Habiba again. She seemed receptive to helping us. She was the one who told us that you'd escaped."

Jack seemed to think about it, then glanced at Ianto, who shook his head with as much subtlety as he could. "We'll keep her in mind if we need another contact, some sort of way in. Right now Ianto already has an established source close to the action who's trained in espionage."

Gwen looked ready to protest, and Jack held up his hand. "We don't want to add more people to our exclusive little hit list, do we?" he asked her, and she bristled.

"No, but we need help, Jack. We can't do this alone from hundreds of miles away!"

Ianto watched Jack and Gwen face down, again reminded of how some things never changed. He almost smiled, then shook his head and stepped forward. "I'm hoping my handler will be in touch soon. He's already helped us once, we can count on him."

Jack nodded. "Great. But until we hear from your handler or Mickey gets what he needs to hack into Thames House, we still need to know what's going on out there. Gwen, Helen has a decent laptop—get on the news sites, the police sites, track down everything you can, like you did when this started."

"Does Flat Holm have a firewall of any sort?" asked Mickey. "We don't want to be flagged."

Jack nodded. "Good thinking. I knew there was a reason I brought you home. Get set up to search safely, then start looking for anything you can find, especially news about Jake. Find out what happened to him. Martha, how are you feeling?"

Martha struggled to sit up. "I've been better," she said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay in bed and rest that leg, for one," Jack replied. "Think about this thing with the children and the man you and Gwen met, see if we can't figure out how the 456 is using them or what it wants with them."

Martha nodded as Mickey and Gwen stood. "What will you do?" Gwen asked pointedly.

"What I always do," Jack replied with a smile. "Watch the rest of you do a great job."

Ianto rolled his eyes, and Gwen followed suit, sharing a smile before she, Rhys, and Mickey left the room.

"What do you want me to do, Jack?" asked Ianto. "I'm reluctant to contact Bryan in case he's been compromised. Protocol dictates that he make the initial contact in situations like this."

"And I'm sure he will. In the meantime, I can think of several things we might do." Jack waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

"Seriously?" asked Ianto, disbelief obvious in his voice. "How can you even…never mind. It's you."

"Not in here!" Martha groaned from her bed. "Take it outside, you two. I do not need to see this." She paused. "At least, not when I can't enjoy it."

Jack winked at Martha, then took Ianto's arm and led him into the corridor. Once they were outside the room, Jack offered him a sheepish grin. "Don't worry, I was kidding. I mean, I'd love to, but now is clearly not the time, and I…" He paused and dropped his arm. "I don't even know if you're seeing anyone. You could be married for all I know."

Ianto looked at Jack in surprise. Did he think that Ianto had moved on in more ways than his career? That an undercover assignment with UNIT even lent itself to any sort of relationship? Judging from his comments, Ianto suspected that Jack was unattached as well. In spite of everything that had happened in the last two days, let alone the last ten months, Ianto knew it would be all too easy to fall back into bed with Jack. But then he'd be right back in the same situation that had driven him away, and he knew he couldn't go there, not now. Not with so much on the line.

He did, however, want to be honest with Jack. "There's no one," he said softly. "I guess you could say I'm married to the job." Which was true, in a way.

Jack laughed nervously. "I know how that is, that's for sure." They gazed at one another for a long moment, unsaid words caught in a web of doubt and insecurities, fear and hurt. It was Ianto who shook them out of it.

"So what are we really going to do whilst the others are getting things done?" he asked. Jack nodded and indicated that Ianto should follow.

"We're going to get your arm looked at first and you're going to tell me exactly what happened, and I want to check with Dr. Tomlinson about Martha and Mickey. I have a feeling we're going to need to be closer to the action, but they might have to work from here considering their injuries. Then I want to talk to Martha about the children and see if the three of us can't come to a better understanding of what's going on."

Ianto followed with a silent nod. It was a start.

* * *

They met an hour later in Martha's room. Ianto's arm had been cleansed and wrapped, and Dr. Tomlinson had even given him a shot of antibiotics considering it had been untreated for almost twenty-four hours. Ianto had managed to hide his scars from Australia by only taking off one sleeve; for some reason, he was not ready for anyone, let alone Jack, to see the disfigurement on his left arm.

He and Jack had been updated on Martha and Mickey's condition, then spent time talking with both Martha and the doctor about how the 456 might be using the children, hijacking their voices and using them to communicate. The aliens had not used children in 1965, and so they had only vague ideas, ambiguous theories with little evidence, but it was something, and they hoped that the man Gwen and Martha had spoken to might provide more information should they be able to find and speak to him again.

Mickey came in with a list of tech available at Flat Holm that he could use, as well as a list of everything else he needed. Gwen brought a folder of printouts detailing the latest news on the strange happenings around the world. It was not much, and there was still no word on Jake Rogers, a fact that seemed to dishearten the others. After another hour, Jack told everyone to find an empty room and get some sleep.

"We need to be up early and ready to start on this."

"On what?" asked Mickey. "What's the plan, boss?"

"Tomorrow we find out what's going on in London, and if we have to, we make ourselves part of it." He looked at each one of them very seriously. "There is a reason they don't want us involved, and it's not a good one. Our mandate is to protect this planet, and if we have to protect it from our own leaders, then we will."

"Here, here!" said Rhys, and Gwen squeezed his hand.

At that moment, Ianto's mobile phone went off, startling them all. As the only people who could possibly have the number were Bryan or Cornelius, Ianto was not too worried, though he still answered with a simple, "Yes?"

"The ships hung in the sky," said a far too cheerful voice on the other end.

"Much the way that bricks don't," answered Ianto, rolling his eyes. Before he turned away, he caught Jack's curious glance and Mickey's snort. Gwen said something quietly to Rhys, who chuckled, but Ianto left the room to talk privately before catching it.

"You're alive," said Bryan Wells.

"Thanks to you," said Ianto, and he meant it. Everything he'd needed to get into and out of Aston Down had been thanks to Bryan, from the false orders to the well-rigged SUV, the base lockdown to the get-away car.

"You used the tools and training right, kid," said Bryan. "I'm impressed. I half thought I'd be breaking you both out of some black ops site myself."

"I did too!" Ianto laughed in spite of himself, nervous energy dissipating with relief at hearing from his handler, and because he had thought the same thing.

"Well, we both did good, then," said Bryan. "Now, are you safe?"

"Yes, I'm—" started Ianto, but the older man cut him off.

"I don't need to know. I have a pretty good idea of your general area. How's Harkness?"

"Almost back to his old self," said Ianto, thinking that Jack was in fact doing remarkably well for having been blown up. He wondered if there would be a delayed reaction later on, once the crisis passed. He had only seen it once, when Jack had returned from his trip with the Doctor. He'd barely made it through the mess with John Hart and got them all into their hotel rooms before he'd collapsed, both physically and emotionally.

"Sounds dangerous," murmured Bryan. "Look, they're definitely onto you. Broderick Cole is blown now and Johnson is beyond pissed off that you nicked Harkness from right under her. According to Delta Vega, the Home Office is worried too. They definitely want Harkness kept out of this, which means they've pretty much given Johnson free rein to get the job done."

"But why?" asked Ianto. "That's what we can't figure out. Why are they trying to silence Jack?"

"Was he involved last time?"

Ianto was silent, debating how much to tell Bryan. He decided he couldn't tell the man everything, because it was not his secret to share, but he had to tell his handler the basics. "He was there, yes. He said the last time the 456 were here was 1965. They demanded children in exchange for the anti-virus to a deadly mutation of the flu."

"Jesus," said Bryan softly. "And did the government deal?"

"They did," said Ianto, closing his eyes with a sad sigh as he once again tried to imagine the difficult situation Jack had faced. "Twelve children for millions of lives."

"Do you think they're back for more?" asked Bryan.

"It would explain why the government wants to cover up what happened last time. If they intended to fight back, why deny the past? Make it public, stir public outrage to garner more support for resistance."

"Whereas if they intend to give these things more kids, they'll want it all done hush-hush, hence no Harkness."

"And no Torchwood," added Ianto. "We'd never stand for it. We'd find another way." He realized he'd included himself as part of Torchwood and wondered if Bryan would pick up on it as well.

Bryan was silent for a moment. "The good of the many, Ianto…" he said, trailing off, and Ianto sighed in frustration.

"I know, I know. I've experienced it myself. I've seen Jack make the hard decisions. There's something about this that's different, though. They've come back. If we don't stop them, they could very well keep coming back!"

"Oh, I agree completely," said Bryan. "But I think you're right about Whitehall. They won't see it that way. I bet Green is pissing his pants, and it has nothing to do with giving up a bunch of kids to alien extortionists and everything to do with politics and saving his golden arse."

"I hate politicians," Ianto grumbled.

"Of course you do," laughed Bryan. "Because our job is to fix their mistakes, only they get the credit. So what's Harkness's plan for fixing this one?"

"We need to get into Thames House, maybe Whitehall and see what's going on. I don't mean in person," he added when Bryan started to protest. "We've got our tech guy working on the computer systems, hoping we can eavesdrop or something."

"I'll see what I can do from my end. Then what?"

"We need to know what exactly these aliens want and how they're communicating through the children. Martha Jones had been looking into it when it started, we're hoping to come up with some sort of working theory for not only what's going on, but how to stop it."

"Sounds like a delightfully vague sort of plan," said Bryan, and Ianto snorted.

"We're all wanted by the government, Bryan. What did you expect? We have to keep our heads down if we're going to be able to do anything at all."

"Oh, I know. But how are you going to get the tech you need for Smith?" Ianto wasn't surprised Bryan knew exactly who Mickey was. "Or anything else you need, for that matter, like weapons? Do you have anything you can use if it comes down to fighting?"

"Not much," Ianto admitted. "Especially alien tech."

"You've got some sources in the area, right?"

"Yes, and Jack has even more, if I recall correctly."

"What about the Hub?" asked Bryan. "Anything you can salvage there? There's already talk of UNIT moving in as soon as they can spare the manpower from the current crisis."

Ianto stopped in surprise. He had originally planned on going to the Hub, hoping to find the lowest levels safe and secure. When Jack had told him to come to Flat Holm instead, he'd completely forgotten about it. If the archives had been locked down properly, there could be something useful down there. It could even be worth the risk to head back in the morning and scavenge what they could. Once again his handler had provided the answers.

"We'll check it out first thing in the morning," he said. "Thanks, Bryan."

"Don't thank me yet, kid. You might not find anything but a big hole in the ground and a trigger happy sniper sentry. Keep your head down and your eyes open."

"Johnson was at Aston Down with her team," Ianto said sharply. "Did she leave someone in Cardiff?"

"I don't know for sure," said Bryan, "but I'd think so. She's too good not to. And I'm not sure how much longer I'll be able to find out for you."

"What do you mean?" Ianto demanded. "Are you in danger?"

Bryan snorted on the other end of the line. "We all are, Ianto. Every damn day, and this week more than usual. I've tried to cover up as best as I could, but it's possible, however unlikely, that the bastards behind this might track those false orders for Harkness back to me."

"Shit," murmured Ianto. "What are you going to do?"

"Relax, kid." Bryan laughed, but Ianto could hear the genuine nervousness below the bluster. "Like I said, I'm covering my tracks and coming up with a plan, like my handler taught me and I taught you. But if at some point I've got to disappear, you know what to do."

Ianto nodded to himself. As a backup plan, it was rubbish, but when agents or handlers went silent it was the only way to get back in contact. He hoped it didn't come to that; he would hate to see Bryan in even more danger. He had a family. Which reminded Ianto of his own.

"Were you able to get to Rhiannon and Alice before they did?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Your sister's fine. Some of Johnson's people went to talk to them and are keeping watch in case you show up, but they're safe. I've got my own people there as well. Same with Alice Carter."

"Is this number safe?" asked Ianto, hoping they hadn't given anything away regarding Jack's family in particular. He imagined Bryan sitting at a computer somewhere in London, nodding as he typed away.

"I wouldn't have called otherwise. I'll continue to initiate contact. Right now plan on every six hours. Did you get your wound looked at?"

Ianto laughed. "Yes, by a real doctor, even. I'm fine. Exhausted, terrified, and confused, but that's normal, isn't it?"

"In our line of work, it's a good day," Bryan retorted in that quick way he had. "Okay, get some rest. I need to do the same before my fingers fall off from typing. I'll be in touch, unless the world goes to hell before then. And hopefully I won't interrupt anything."

There was a definite hint of teasing in his handler's voice, and Ianto rolled his eyes even though Bryan couldn't see him. "We're in the middle of a global crisis, Bryan. That's the farthest thing from my mind."

"Yeah right," snorted Bryan. "Just don't do anything you'll regret, Ianto."

"I'll try," Ianto murmured. "Stay safe."

"You too." They said their farewells and Ianto reluctantly hung up, his stomach tight with the fear that every conversation he had with his handler might be his last. Not wanting to go back to the others quite yet, Ianto decided he needed some time alone. He headed toward the door, hoping to find a quiet but safe place outside where he could sit and think.

Making his way along a dark path, Ianto reconsidered the wisdom of coming out on the rocky island at night as he slipped once again. Yet his mind was spinning from everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, and sitting under the stars, gazing out at the Bay and toward the city was something he needed to do. He needed to center himself and somehow move past the fear, anger, and shame that was assailing him and refusing to leave him alone.

Now was not the time for self-flagellation. He needed to focus on the professional mission, not the personal complications; he could deal with those later, after they'd won. Pulling his knees to his chest, Ianto wondered what the cost of victory would be this time. Would he lose his job, his friends? Would he lose Jack…or his own life?

Trying to focus on working solutions and not tragic outcomes, Ianto did not hear anyone approach on the path until he felt a presence behind him. Because he recognized it immediately, he did not react, but continued to gaze out at the water, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"How are you, Ianto?" asked Jack. Ianto was immediately reminded of another time Jack had asked Ianto the same question, when he'd returned from traveling with his Doctor. Back then Ianto had been confused by Jack's unexpected return; this time he was the one who had left and come back. He wasn't sure how he felt and remained silent.

"Can I join you?" asked Jack, and this time Ianto nodded. Jack sat down next to him in a similar position, close enough that their shoulders touched. A part of Ianto wanted to reach out and wrap his arms around Jack, pull him close and sit there until dawn, drawing strength from one another. Yet he was not sure how that would be received, at least until Jack did exactly what Ianto had been thinking, turning toward Ianto and offering his hand. When Ianto accepted, he pulled Ianto to sit between his legs and wrapped his arms around Ianto' chest, letting them rest over Ianto's heart. Which was starting to beat somewhat faster, enfolded in Jack's warmth as he was. He could have happily fallen asleep right there on the cold outcrop.

"We should go to the Hub tomorrow," Ianto said quietly, hating to break the peaceful silence. "We need equipment, weapons. Something is bound to have survived the explosion in the lower levels, as long as we can get to them."

"I was thinking the same thing," said Jack. "Was that Bryan who called?" When Ianto nodded, Jack continued. "Did he have any news?"

"Not really, I think things are quiet right now," replied Ianto. "Johnson is furious that we got away. My Broderick Cole cover is blown. And Bryan is more worried than he let on about being compromised himself."

"Damn," murmured Jack. "I'm sorry."

"He's good, he can take care of himself," said Ianto.

"But you wish you were there, in London to help him."

Ianto considered it, trying not to guess at the tone in Jack's voice. Yes, a part of him wanted to be in London. He and Bryan had become a good team in the short time they had been working together, and Ianto trusted the man more than he trusted just about anyone else. He knew, however, that there wasn't much he could do that Bryan couldn't, especially with Ianto being the one who was wanted. In fact, it was likely that Ianto had already put Bryan in danger by simply being one of Bryan's agents. Though all attempts were made to keep the handler/agent relationship confidential, it was not a foolproof system, and either Marc Howell or Broderick Cole could eventually be traced back to Bryan Wells.

And truth be told, Ianto was glad to be back with Torchwood, and with Jack. He'd missed fighting side by side with Jack when he'd gone to Nevada; he'd desperately wanted Jack when he was fighting the Daleks in Australia. Now they were facing another catastrophe, and Ianto was exactly where he wanted to be: with Jack. He felt wanted and needed, and somehow safer and stronger. It was an unsettling admission to make, and he set it aside, because as with everything else, now was not the time to dwell on his personal situation.

He did, however, need to answer Jack.

"I'm exactly where I should be," he said quietly. He felt Jack inhale sharply behind him, then wrap his arms even tighter around Ianto, as if worried that Ianto was going leave even after such a confession. They were silent for a long moment, savoring the touch and feel and even the scent of one another, something neither one of them had done for so long. Yet Ianto knew Jack would want to talk more, given the circumstances of Ianto's absence.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're here," Jack murmured, starting the conversation. "With us, with me." He paused, and Ianto felt Jack swallow behind him. "I missed you," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"I missed you too," Ianto whispered back, determined not to shed tears. He'd done that during the two months he'd wandered, trying to find his path before taking the road to UNIT.

Jack took a deep breath and held Ianto tighter. "Please tell me why you left."

What could he say? He wasn't ready to really talk about it, even if it might clear the air and let them work without distractions. Ianto told himself that they needed to focus on what was going on around them, not between them. And because he had no idea if they would survive, he couldn't even begin to think about the future, whether it involved UNIT or Torchwood or Jack.

"Did you read my letter?" Ianto asked quietly, and Jack nodded.

"A hundred times. And every time I thought I understood, it slipped away from me."

"There's nothing else to explain," Ianto said wearily, highly aware that he was about to deflect Jack yet again. "I couldn't let you, or the team, go through what you did when Owen was shot. I didn't want to do that to you."

"We went through it anyway, with Tosh and Owen," Jack said softly.

"I know," said Ianto, closing his eyes miserably. "And I'm so sorry you lost them. But I wanted to give you the peace of mind that at least I was still alive somewhere, safe and happy, living a normal life away from Torchwood."

"I never stopped looking for you, not really," said Jack. "I wanted to be sure you were safe and happy." He paused, sounding unsure of his next question. "Were you? Safe and happy?"

Ianto thought about it. "Definitely not safe, considering where I ended up," he laughed quietly. "But there were times when I was more at peace than here at Torchwood. There were no ghosts following me through the corridors, no insecurities holding me back. I got to start all over. But at other times, it was too much like living a lie, with so many different names, so many different roles to play, and all of them only a part of who I really was. I missed you, and the others, and Torchwood, but I also missed me. Ianto Jones."

He was surprised by what came out. He'd never vocalized it before, though he'd certainly had his doubts. That he was speaking them out loud to Jack after not having seen the man for so many months spoke volumes of his trust in Jack, of feelings that he'd tried to deny, but feelings that had not gone away and were now coming back full force.

"What will happen next?" asked Jack, acknowledging Ianto's confession with simple acceptance rather than judgment. It was one of so many things that Ianto had missed about Jack.

"I don't know," said Ianto, and again he refused the tears that threatened to fall. "I don't know if I want to go back to what I was with UNIT, not exactly, but I don't know if I can go back to Torchwood, if Torchwood even exists anymore." He sighed. "We just need to survive, I suppose. One day at a time."

"One day at a time," murmured Jack, and he placed a gentle kiss to Ianto's temple that sent shivers down his spine. "Come inside. Come to bed with me."

"Jack—" Ianto started, meaning to protest, but Jack squeezed him tighter.

"We both need sleep," Jack said. "We have a long day ahead of us. I need this as much as you do." When Ianto didn't respond, Jack spoke softly in his ear. "Comfort, Ianto. That's all I offer, and all I want. Please."

Wearily, Ianto nodded. Jack was right. It was all Ianto could offer of himself as well, and all he wanted at that moment. At least they could give that to one another before the next day dawned and brought more threats and challenges. Behind him, Jack stood and helped Ianto up next to him. He captured Ianto's lips in a chaste kiss, then took his hand, and they walked back to the bunker, hand in hand, ready to face the new day together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagining the situation with the 456 under a different set of unique circumstances requires a lot of planning. Which is why I must once again thank my amazing beta, Taamar, for all her hard work not only editing the actual chapters you read here, but also for an incredible amount of plotting. Lots of plotting! Please thank her as well by reading her own wonderful stories! Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
>  


	11. Day Three - Jack

11: Day Three - Jack

Jake woke slowly, his body reluctant to move, his mind fuzzy and confused. For a brief moment, he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing there, until he realized that not only was he in bed, but that he was not alone. And then it all come flooding back in such a rush—the children, the bomb, the escape,  _Ianto_ —that he sat up and gasped as if reviving from one of his many deaths.

Ianto was immediately awake beside him, voice rough with sleep, but eyes bright with worry. "Jack, are you all right?" he asked, hand resting on Jack's bare shoulder in support.

Staring into blue eyes—thank god Ianto had removed the contacts, Jack had missed those eyes—Jack took several deep breaths before nodding slowly. He was embarrassed, his reaction unusual and uncomfortable. "I'm fine. Just…a bit out of it, I suppose."

Ianto offered an understanding smile. "It's been a difficult two days," he pointed out, and Jack laughed at the understatement.

"Difficult doesn't really begin to describe it," he replied. "I just forgot where I was for a moment, what was happening."

"You're at Flat Holm," Ianto said, his hand now rubbing circles on Jack's back. "You're safe."

Jack turned toward him, mesmerized by the man's changed appearance. He quite liked the facial hair, it made Ianto look older and even more distinguished than he had without it. Unable to resist, he leaned toward the Welshman. "And you're here," he murmured, and kissed him, gently at first, until Ianto opened his lips and returned the kiss, his tongue slowly exploring Jack's mouth.

Letting his hands move toward Ianto's face, Jack deepened the kiss, reveling in the feeling, in something he had missed so much. His arms wrapped around Ianto's back as if they had a mind of their own, pulling the other man toward him until they toppled back to the bed, Ianto laying on top of him, unresisting. Jack let his hands roam beneath Ianto's undershirt, their hips rubbing together as they rocked against one another.

There was a knock on the door, followed by the squeak of hinges, and then, "Oh god!"

Glancing to the side, Jack saw Gwen standing at the door, wide-eyed with her hand over her mouth. He wasn't sure if she was gaping or giggling. Above him, Ianto let his eyes slip closed with a soft groan before rolling away.

"I'm sorry," she said, shielding her eyes. "I didn't realize you were…" She trailed off, probably because there was no way to end the sentence. That they were what—snogging? Shagging? Back together? Jack had no idea what might have happened, he only knew what he wanted. Ianto was back in his life, and he didn't want to lose the man again. Which meant he needed to move slowly, carefully. He didn't want Ianto to run, scared off because Jack pushed too hard after being apart for so long.

"It's fine," he sighed, sitting up with Ianto and not bothering to cover his bare chest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing major," she said. "Helen said breakfast is ready, and Mickey wanted to get started on his setup."

Jack nodded reluctantly. He'd obviously been more tired than he'd thought if he'd slept later than the others. Then again, they hadn't been blown up. And Ianto had been shot, however superficially. There was little doubt in Jack's mind that sleep would be difficult to come by as the situation worsened, so it was probably best that they had both caught up a bit. He felt better for it, although the current situation in the scrub pants he'd worn to bed left something to be desired.

"We'll be there shortly," said Ianto, though he did not stand up to get ready.

Gwen was staring at them once more. Jack smirked and was rewarded with a blush. She left without a word, although Jack was pretty sure he heard her giggle on the way out.

Beside him, Ianto fell back to the bed, letting his arm slump across his face. "God, that was mortifying."

"I don't know," said Jack, grinning down at him. "I think Gwen was more embarrassed than you."

"Not possible," Ianto muttered. He sighed and looked at Jack. "I'm sorry," he said, and Jack frowned.

"What for?"

"For what just happened," Ianto replied, glancing away. "There's so much going on and it's all so confusing, it's really not fair to—"

Jack stopped him with a kiss, which Ianto returned enthusiastically before Jack pulled away. "It's fine," he said, though he wasn't quite sure if he meant it. In spite of his next words, he knew he wanted more. "I understand. No expectations."

Blue eyes studied his face before nodding. "Thank you," he whispered.

"We'll have to talk eventually," Jack continued, running his hand through Ianto's hair, shorter than he remembered. "When this is all over. I really don't want you to disappear on me again."

"I won't," Ianto said. "I did what I felt I had to, but I did it wrong. I won't do that again."

Jack kissed him once, quick and chaste. "Good. Then let's get up and get dressed. There's a shower down the hall. You want the first one?" He grinned, forcing himself to lightness. "I'd suggest sharing, but maybe when this is all done."

Ianto nodded as he got out of bed. He gathered his clothes from the night before and the bag he had brought with him. "I've got a change of clothes, if you want them. Might not be the best fit, but better than scrubs, yeah? Although I want the clean underwear."

"Thanks," said Jack, taking the offered shirt and trousers. It suddenly occurred to him that he owned nothing anymore. All his clothes, books, mementos from the past— everything had been destroyed in the blast. Even his wrist strap was missing, and he felt the loss keenly, his arm cold and naked. Ianto noticed him rubbing it as the realization struck hard.

"Maybe we'll find it," he said softly, pulling on his shirt and trousers from the day before. "This morning when we head back."

Jack laughed bitterly. "I doubt it," he said. "Everything's gone. Everything," he repeated in a whisper. His entire life, destroyed in moments. Everything he'd saved over the decades, everything he'd collected and worn and shared—from old photographs to priceless mementos to the piece of coral from the Doctor he'd kept growing for decades. All gone, leaving him with nothing but memories once more.

Ianto looked as devastated as Jack felt. He reached into his bag and rummaged around before finding something and walking over to Jack. He placed a small metal item into Jack's hand. "We'll get through this, Jack," he whispered, placing a kiss on Jack's temple. "We always do."

Jack nodded, too choked up to reply. He glanced down at the object in his hand and saw that it was a button from his greatcoat. He had loved that coat, and Ianto had loved it too, always taking care of it, straightening it across Jack's shoulders. That Ianto had kept a piece of it when he'd left meant more to Jack than he could put to words. He wiped his eyes, willing the tears away, until Ianto pulled him into an embrace, and then he was sobbing as Ianto held him, overcome by too many emotions to hold back any longer.

When the brief storm had passed, Ianto kissed him, running his hand down Jack's face, then left to clean up. Jack sat on the bed, his mind curiously blank yet also racing. He couldn't focus on any one thing, so many thoughts were swirling about. He finally shook his head and made his way to the bathroom to clean up and get started as quickly as possible. They needed to contain the situation with the 456 first; sorting things out personally would happen as it was meant to be.

* * *

Two hours later, Jack found himself sneaking into the ruins of the place he had once called home, the place where he had worked on and off for decades, then run for nine years on his own. Gwen had argued about coming with them, until Ianto had pointed out the dangers involved—unstable tunnels and uncontained alien artifacts among them. She had reluctantly backed off, though it had taken Rhys to finally convince her that the safety of their baby was more important than risking injury or capture to scavenge the ruins of the Hub.

And so it was Jack and Ianto who drove toward the Bay, Jack in Ianto's spare clothing, and Ianto in the suit he'd worn the previous day. Ianto grew quieter the closer and closer they came. Jack wasn't sure whether it was returning to the Hub or finding it destroyed that was prompting the other man's silence, but he knew not to push it. It was one of those things they had sensed intuitively about one another almost from the beginning, when to let something go and when to push. Gwen always pushed, while most others stopped at the first sign of resistance from Jack; only Ianto had known him well enough to get it right every time, and Jack sensed that right now was not the moment for him to push Ianto.

There was no way into the Hub from the Plass. Not only was it nothing more than an ugly gaping hole of debris, but Jack had used Ianto's small perception filter to approach the area only to find it still cordoned off, guarded by Cardiff police. He was also fairly certain there were sniper sentries in the nearest tall building. Fortunately he knew another way in, and Ianto, being who he was, simply nodded and agreed, before rattling off several other secret entrances to the Hub that they might try, including one Jack wasn't even aware of.

Now they walked through a dark tunnel, deep underground, torches held in front of them as they breathed shallowly through the oxygen masks Ianto had insisted on bringing with them. Jack had questioned the necessity until Ianto had pointed out that the destruction of the Hub was quite unlike the destruction of any regular building: who knew what sort of alien technology had been destroyed and could be leaking damaging chemicals and radiation into the ruins.

In truth, Ianto had suggested wearing hard hats and hazmat suits, but Jack had drawn the line at the suits, knowing how difficult it would be to maneuver in them. Flat Holm had failed to turn up any hard hats or body armor, so Ianto was left with only the masks, some boots they'd borrowed, as many torches as they could carry, and the weapons they'd left Aston Down with.

Jack led the way, and after a few moments noticed that Ianto was lagging behind. As they passed a damaged tunnel winding away to the right, where Jack knew it would end in the lowest levels of the vaults, he turned to find Ianto staring into the debris, frozen in place, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow.

"Ianto?" Jack called through his mask, then hurried back when the Welshman didn't answer. "What's wrong? What is it?"

Ianto still didn't respond, until Jack actually placed his hands on Ianto's shoulders, causing the man to jump. He had no idea what had spooked Ianto so badly; normally the other man was unflappable, grim determination and guts getting him through far worse than a bombed out tunnel beneath Roald Dahl Plass. This was highly unusual, like Jack's reaction upon wakening that morning. Both responses spoke to the extreme stress of the situation, but Jack suspected there was something else as well.

Ianto drew in a shuddering breath and shut his eyes. Jack could see him mouthing words, numbers maybe, as if he were counting himself out of some sort of panic attack. Jack became even more concerned, because panic attacks were not Ianto's thing either.

"Talk to me," he said, moving closer. "What's wrong?"

Ianto turned his back on the scene, meeting Jack's face with red-rimmed eyes. "It's like Canary Wharf all over again, only spread out in bits and pieces. First running from London, now this. The Tower, the damage, the destruction." He closed his eyes again and started walking away, his back straight, his voice heated. "I didn't come back to Torchwood to relive its worst moments."

Jack glanced down the broken tunnel, suddenly understanding. Ianto wasn't having flashbacks, per se, but the situation was certainly hitting close to home for the Welshman. It made sense that he would draw parallels between what had happened after the Battle of Canary Wharf and what he was experiencing now. Jack was fairly certain those sorts of experiences never really healed; in fact, he was somewhat surprised that he himself was holding up as well as he was, given his own past experiences and the overwhelming loss of the Hub. And yet, at the same time, Ianto's presence in his life at precisely that moment made it more bearable. Jack only hoped he could do the same for Ianto.

He caught up to Ianto, who was angrily wiping his eyes, and laid a hand on Ianto's elbow. "Hey," he said, stopping the other man from continuing. "Someone told me this morning that we'll get through this." He offered a crooked smile. "Because we always do."

Ianto took a deep breath before replying. "Yes, well, it's one thing to say it, but quite another thing to believe it when you're walking through the ruins of yet another workplace tragedy."

"I believe it," said Jack. "And I think you do too." When Ianto looked away without answering, Jack pulled him closer. "This isn't Canary Wharf. You're just making the connections—aliens, being on the run, hiding."

"Everything destroyed," Ianto replied bitterly. "Ruins all around me, again."

"You do seem to have that problem," Jack said as lightly as he could. "Maybe I should send your handler a memo."

To his surprise and relief, that got a laugh, however bitter, and they smiled at one another before Jack took Ianto's hand and continued. "I couldn't do this without you," he said. "I know I said it before, but I'm glad you're here. I need you."

He sensed Ianto trying to hold it together, then heard a muffled, "I'll try my best, sir."

Flashing a grin over his shoulder, Jack winked. "Don't go calling me sir now, Mr. Jones. You never know what might happen."

Ianto pretended to glance around the tunnel they were in. It was less dirt and more brick and mortar, which meant they were coming closer to the actual Hub. With a sly grin of his own, Ianto replied. "I seem to recall quite a few interesting things happening deep within the Hub,  _sir."_

Jack mock groaned. "Have we got time to explore our old haunts?"

"Unfortunately, I lost my stopwatch."

"What?" Jack stopped unexpectedly, and Ianto bumped into him. "You lost it?"

Ianto nodded in obvious regret. "When I was traveling. Not sure if I lost it or if I was pick-pocketed. It was in Cairo."

"You went to Cairo?" Jack exclaimed, and Ianto raised an eyebrow, seemingly back to his normal self.

"Amongst other places," he returned, and Jack grinned.

"Before you or after you joined UNIT?" he asked.

"Before," replied Ianto, then rolled his eyes with subtle self-deprecation. "I suppose it was more like wandering than traveling. Managed to make my way through most of Europe and North Africa. "

Jack gave a low whistle before he continued. "Ianto Jones, world traveler." He paused. "I'm sorry about the watch. It was…" He trailed off, unsure what to say about a timepiece turned sex toy that had sentimental value.

"It was a good memory and I hated losing it," Ianto replied softly. "I came back to Wales not long after."

They were quiet for a moment, twisting through another deserted corridor, the evidence of damage becoming more and more evident.

"Were you planning on coming back to Torchwood?" Jack asked.

"No," admitted Ianto. "But I felt like I'd lost something important, and wanted to be closer to home. I even tried to find another one."

"Did you?"

When Ianto spoke, it was clear he was talking about more than just a stopwatch. "It was irreplaceable."

Jack squeezed his hand, and together they continued into the ruins of the Hub.

* * *

They didn't get very far. Soon the tunnels became blocked, too cluttered with debris and the potential of collapse to safely continue. Though they tried every way they could think of, there was simply too much damage to get close enough to the archives to find anything of use. Jack was tempted to curse and kick at the loose stones, but he knew perfectly well it would do nothing but possibly bring down the walls around them. They reluctantly made their way back to where they had entered, Jack making a mental note to contact someone—though he had no idea who he could trust now—about the cleanup and recovery. They needed to salvage whatever they could before it fell into the wrong hands. Was UNIT that busy with the situation in London, or that oblivious?

They stood at the entrance to the tunnel they had used, fingers touching as they gazed out across the bay. Jack thought about Jake, staying behind to lock down the archives in case there was something they could use. Yet they couldn't even get into them, and Jack feared that Jake's actions had been for nothing. He told himself that Jake was alive and that they'd find him, that he hadn't died, not another teammate…

Jack shook his head, pushing the dark thoughts from him mind. He tried to figure out their next step, but kept coming up blank, his thoughts too distracted by their failure. Finally he turned to Ianto. "What now?" he asked bluntly. Ianto shook his head and sighed.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out. We still need supplies and equipment."

"We're both wanted men," Jack pointed out. "Bit difficult to walk into the nearest electronics shop and load up on laptops."

"We could steal what we need," Ianto suggested, though his tone was not serious. "Maybe Gwen could show us some copper tricks." Jack shook his head.

"We'd risk being caught, and we're better off working without any tech than locked away in some secret base."

"Agreed," said Ianto. "But I do have money, so we don't need to steal anything." Jack looked at him in astonishment.

"How?" he asked, and Ianto bumped his shoulder.

"Secret agent, remember? I've blown two of my identities, and I'm sure the third isn't too far behind, but a standard part of our escape kit includes both cash and credit."

Jack nodded with approval. "Untraceable, I assume?"

"Naturally. It's also how I came by my weapon, the perception filter, phone, and a number of other things that may or may not prove useful." He grinned to himself as he turned to Jack. "Here's the plan. We can't recover anything from the Hub, so I'll head into town and pick up what we need, then—"

"No," said Jack, stopping him. "We stay together. I'm not risking you out there alone."

Ianto rolled his eyes in that way Jack had missed so much. "Jack, I've been doing this for months. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, you've been running from trained assassins since you left Cardiff?" Jack asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then by all means, run off on your own and try not to get cut down, thank you very much." He waited for Ianto to snap back, but the Welshman just stared at him before offering a curt nod. Apparently it wasn't a fight Ianto felt was worth having at that moment, or perhaps Jack's comment about leaving had stung.

"Fine. You can carry the packages."

"Yes, sir," said Jack with a mock salute and a wink. Ianto laughed, the tension diffused as fast as it had appeared, and they carefully made their way to their car.

Several hours and multiple bags and boxes later, they arrived back at Flat Holm with more than Jack had anticipated, including quite an expensive bill for whomever paid for Ianto's escape kit. Still, Mickey now had a powerful laptop and all the other equipment he needed and Jack had a new set of clothes that fit. The others had replacement clothing as well, including a rather dashing suit for Ianto ("Why not jeans and a jumper?" Jack had asked, to which Ianto had sniffed, "Still working, Jack, whether or not the world is ending.") Ianto had even sent Jack for food and coffee, and then snuck away for a grey RAF greatcoat from the nearest army surplus store, and so it was in higher spirits that they returned to the island to regroup early that afternoon.

After sharing a late lunch, Mickey got to work on his set up with help from Ianto, whose handler had contacted him on schedule and offered some tips to help Mickey break into the Thames House system. Jack sat with Martha while she slept and trolled through several websites, catching up on any news he could, when the image recognition program came across the man Gwen and Martha had visited two days earlier. Clement MacDonald had been arrested in London. Suspecting that he would be safer with them, and that he might even be able to help them understand how the aliens communicated, Jack sent Gwen and Rhys to Camden to bring him back to Flat Holm, hoping the task would not put them in further danger.

He was talking with Martha when Ianto came bursting into the room, Mickey trailing behind him. "Jack, you need to see this."

Martha's room had a small television in the corner. Ianto turned it on and struggled with the reception to one of the local channels. Together they listened in stunned silence as the reporters showed footage the latest message from the children, followed by the shocking scene of a large column of fire barreling into the center of London, reported to be Thames House.

"We are here," Martha murmured. "What does that mean? The aliens are here? On Earth?"

"Of all the places to land," Mickey snorted. Jack was still speechless. He barely heard Ianto speaking into his phone until he quickly turned back to them.

"That was Gwen. She saw it. It's for real. She said London is going spare."

"So they're here," Mickey said. He sounded skeptical. "In London, having tea at Thames House."

That got Jack's attention. "Whoever they are, they're not having tea. They're here for a reason, and it's not a good one."

"Because friendly aliens always descend in a shower of fire and brimstone," Ianto pointed out, but no one laughed or smiled.

"Mickey, we need to know what's going on in there," said Jack, standing and beginning to pace. "Now."

"Almost there," Mickey replied. "Give me twenty minutes."

"You've got ten," Jack snapped. "Go."

Mickey hurried from the room, leaving Jack behind with Martha and Ianto. It was Martha who spoke first.

"Jack, did this happen last time?" she asked. He shook his head, frustrated because he had been thinking about the exact same thing.

"Not that I remember," he replied. "It was all done over the 456 frequency—the demands, the flu vaccine, everything. I don't think anyone ever saw them."

"Why would they show themselves now?" Ianto asked. "Why change what worked before?"

"What do you mean?" asked Martha, but Jack was nodding thoughtfully. Of course Ianto would see to the heart of it: why? What did they want that necessitated changing their tactics?

"They're using the children as puppets," Ianto pointed out. "Which is frightening enough. Then they arrive with an even more intimidating lightshow. Given the former, one would think that a personal appearance might be a poor strategy in terms of guaranteeing their safety."

"Most normal governments would be pissed off at aliens playing ventriloquist with their kids," said Jack. "But not ours, because they've dealt with them before, so the 456 can get away with more."

"They didn't think there would be any resistance," offered Martha, and Ianto nodded.

"Especially when they demonstrated their sweeping ability to control a large segment of the population."

"Scare tactics," said Martha, and Jack agreed.

"But they've also come down to deal personally," Jack said. "Which means they want something else, something big, something important to them and us—maybe more than twelve children."

Ianto cursed under his breath, and Martha let her eyes slip closed. "We need to figure out how to stop them using the children," she murmured.

"Keep working on it," Jack said. He handed over the laptop he'd been using. "Research whatever you can. Figure out why it's only kids. If it's a signal, maybe we can block it, or turn it back on them. Get Dr. Tomlinson to help you, you had a good start yesterday. We need to figure it out today."

Martha nodded, murmuring under her breath. Jack didn't quite catch it, but sensed she was worried and upset. He leaned down and ran a hand through her hair, fingers brushing across a cut along her temple. She was beautiful and brave, and he knew he was pushing her, but he didn't have a choice. Martha had saved the world once; Jack had every confidence that she could do it again.

"You're amazing, Martha Jones," he whispered, kissing her gently on the forehead. "You can do this."

"Thanks, Jack," she sighed. "What are you doing then?"

"Going to take a look into Thames House," he said, bouncing back up with a fake smile. He couldn't let them see how worried he truly was. And the guilt…the guilt was growing, threatening to consume him as he realized the events of 1965 were coming back to haunt them all. More than anything he wanted to wallow in it, to condemn and curse the man he had been, the things he'd done with barely a second thought.

No, that wasn't true. He'd had second thoughts. He'd even had them at the time, but had buried them deep, adding them to the collection of doubts and regrets he'd tucked away over the years, only remembering them when new ones brought the old to the surface.

Yet even now he wondered what any of them could have done in 1965. Twelve children for the lives of millions. It was so much like his experience with the fairies, as well as every other situation when he'd had to make a decision for the good of the many instead of the good of the few. He hated recognizing the inevitability of it, and hated that he could do what so many others could not.

As if sensing everything going through his mind at that moment, Martha took his hand and squeezed. "I believe in you too," she whispered, and Jack nodded, too choked up to reply. Sometimes he couldn't understand why anyone would have any faith in him at all, but he squeezed back, acknowledging her support, then turned to leave. Ianto followed him silently, not needing to be asked, falling back into his unspoken place at Jack's side, another loyal soul offering faith and support that Jack knew was undeserved, though desperately needed.

They didn't talk as they made their way to the room Mickey had taken over with various pieces of computer equipment. As they walked in, Mickey glanced up and grinned.

"Just in time, boss," he said. "I think I'm about to get in."

Jack clapped Mickey on the back. "Brilliant. I take back ever calling you Mickey the Idiot."

The other man laughed as he flipped between machines. "I'm still not calling you Captain Beefcake."

"Beefcake?" murmured Ianto, a small smile on his lips. Jack grinned but Mickey replied first.

"Well, it was originally Captain Cheesecake, but he didn't like that. Wanted something better."

"Ah," said Ianto, nodding sagely. "Now it makes perfect sense."

"Long time ago and far, far away," said Jack. "We're pals now."

"Speak for yourself, mate," said Mickey. "It was only a few years for me. I'm still hurting."

Jack actually laughed out loud, a strange feeling the middle of such a tense situation. "You look like it. Now, are you in yet?"

Mickey sat back, stretched his fingers, and pushed one last button. "I present Thames House."

He had three monitors, two commandeered from the base and one large one they had picked up earlier that morning. Hazy images from halfway across the country coalesced into something wholly unremarkable: offices, corridors, government workers, but no aliens.

"What did Gwen say her contact told her about Thames House? That they were building something, right?" asked Jack, thumb to his mouth as his searched the scenes for something—anything—that could help.

"Thirteenth floor," said Ianto. "Certainly auspicious. Can you get to the thirteenth floor?"

"Should be able to," Mickey said, concentrating on his keyboard. "Let's see…ten…twelve…thirt…" He trailed off as the picture became clear. "What the hell is that?"

Neither Jack nor Ianto answered. They were staring into a large room, tiled with red and black squares. At one end of the room several people hovered about looking nervous, but at the other was a large tank, filled with some sort of gas. A middle-aged man with glasses stepped forward and addressed the tank.

"It's a self-contained environment," said Jack quietly. "They can't breathe our air. And that's John Frobisher. Why's he so involved in all this?"

"He was our contact at the Home Office," Ianto replied, also staring at the scene. "Makes sense he would be in on alien contact, I suppose."

"Doesn't explain why he's the one giving blank page orders," Jack replied.

"It does if he knew about 1965 and is the one covering it up," said Ianto. "The question then is—was he doing it on his own, or did it come from higher up the chain of command?"

They watched as Frobisher approached the tank, but there was no sound, and they had no idea what it was or what it was saying, until Frobisher stepped back in surprise. The alien in the tank was thrashing, tentacle-like limbs slamming against the clear plastic walls, green vomit splattering everywhere. Jack felt his stomach drop.

"I've never seen anything like it," he said. "Mickey, we need to hear what they're saying."

"I've only got visuals," said Mickey, sounding frustrated. "I don't know that I can—"

"Have you got access to the Torchwood servers?" asked Ianto in a rare interruption. Mickey glanced at him in surprise.

"Yes, but…"

"There should be lip reading software on the servers," said Ianto, addressing Jack as much as Mickey. "It was designed for the Eye-5 contacts, but it might work with other images, as long as the camera has a clear view of the face and lips."

"Worth a try," said Jack, nodding in appreciation. Even after being gone for ten months, Ianto could still come up with a much-needed solution at exactly the right time. "Pull it up and try. I want to know what they're talking about."

It took a minute, but soon the cobbled together computer system was offering them an even more grim look into Thames House as John Frobisher's words echoed throughout the room.

"…The 456 have made contact with this country before. Many years ago. It would be better if... I mean, given the nature of that meeting... It would ensure the smooth-running of diplomatic relations between Earth and the 456 if that previous encounter was kept off the record. By off the record, I mean, private. Between us. Can you do that?"

"Oh my god," said Ianto, in a rare display of shock and disgust. "They really are covering in up."

"I need to be in there," Jack said, staring hard at the screen. "He doesn't know what the hell he's doing."

"He gave the order to have you killed," Ianto reminded him quietly.

"He's a civil servant!" Jack exclaimed. "He doesn't have this kind of power. What the hell is going on?"

He tried to pull it together, to understand. As far as he knew, the 456 had not shown themselves in 1965; now they were in Thames House. John Frobisher had tried to have him killed for his previous involvement with the 456 and was now making sure the aliens themselves never mentioned their previous interaction with the British government. It seemed that Thames House was covering up its previous involvement in order to avoid controversy and maintain some semblance of legitimacy in the midst of a crisis, particularly if they intended to submit to the aliens again. Jack could use that against them to force his way back into the situation.

He had to. He was the only one who had been there in 1965, directly involved. He knew the truth, and he knew the stakes. Ianto was probably right in thinking that the 456 were back for something, possibly more children, and any demand must be denied. They had given them the children once with the promise the 456 would never return to Earth. That they were back, controlling human children and landing in London, meant the 456 could not be trusted.

After living with forty years of regret, Jack would not let the government bow to the 456 again. He couldn't. Trading their children for safety was not an option anymore, because it was obvious that it would keep happening if it didn't stop now. Which meant standing up to them, and Jack needed to be the one leading the fight.

On screen, he watched as Frobisher concluded speaking with the 456, who slimed the box once more. The man strode away, and the scene appeared to be over as various government lackeys left the room as well. Jack laid a hand on Mickey's shoulder.

"I need Frobisher's personal mobile number. It's the only way I'll get through to him, and it's time he we tell him what's going on and what's at stake here."

Mickey nodded and began working on one of the smaller monitors.

"What if we don't know everything?" Ianto asked softly. "You can't go blustering in like usual."

"Why not?" asked Jack. "What's stopping me?"

Ianto sighed. "Jack, they've tried to kill you once. They tried to kill me. What makes you think they'll stop and listen just because you're offering to save them from their own ignorant complicity?"

"I'm not offering to save them," said Jack, shaking his head. "I'm offering to help."

"And if they refuse your help?" Ianto pushed.

"Then they're idiots," Jack replied. "They need us."

"How do you intend to convince them of that with the Hub destroyed?"

Jack grinned wolfishly. "Easy. I'll threaten to go to the press and blow it all sky high, everything. First contact in 1965, the deal with the children, the alien sitting in Thames House right now—all of it."

"And that'll get Frobisher to listen to you?"

"Should do," said Jack. He was acting more confident than he honestly felt, because he knew it was a long shot. It was entirely possible that contacting the Home Office would simply alert them to his location and result in more attempts to kill him and his team. Yet he couldn't lay low at Flat Holm and do nothing, waiting until it went too far to sweep in with an "I told you so" when the situation went to hell. He had to do something, and with the Hub destroyed, he had no technology, no weapons, no way of standing up to anyone—British government or slime-covered alien squids—with force. All he had were words: truth wrapped in lies, with the hope that it would gain him more information and the answer to solving the problem.

Ianto, however, looked skeptical. Jack understood; it was not much of a plan, but it was what they had at the moment. They had to try something.

"Got it," said Mickey, and rattled off a mobile number. Jack took out the phone they'd picked up that morning and entered the numbers. Before placing the call, however, he looked at both Mickey and Ianto.

"Keep an eye on Thames House, and make sure everything is recording. Then I need you both to see if you can find anything on the Torchwood servers about these things. It'll likely be wiped if it was ever there. Mickey, if you can hack into UNIT, do it and see if they've got anything." He turned to leave, but Mickey stopped him.

"Where are you going now? I thought you were going to call Frobisher and push him around?"

"Not here," said Jack, earning a nod of approval from Ianto that made his heart glow. "I'm not taking the chance they could trace the call back here. I'll call from near the Hub. I'll be back in an hour."

A part of him wanted to reach out to Ianto and kiss him goodbye as if he were leaving for work—which, in a way, he was. But then he reminded himself that they weren't at that point,  _yet,_ and that he wasn't going to push Ianto only to lose him again.

Ianto stopped him, however, placing a warm hand on his arm. "Take this," he murmured, handing over the small perception filter they'd already used once that day. "Stay safe."

"I will," said Jack. "See you in an hour. We'll be back in the game, so be prepared."

"Yes, sir," Ianto murmured. His eyes were serious, but he offered Jack a small smile of support. There was a time when Jack would have growled playfully in response, but for now he just smiled back, glad to have Ianto with him again.

* * *

Four hours later, Jack returned to Flat Holm. He stood in the doorway to Martha's room, where she, Mickey, and Gwen were discussing the situation. Rhys sat with an older man, talking quietly in the corner, while Ianto paced back and forth, the first to notice Jack's quiet arrival.

"What happened?" he asked quietly, hurrying over and guiding Jack through the door with a concerned look. They stepped into the hallway for privacy. "Are you all right?"

Jack let his head fall back against the wall. Gwen came out at that moment, saw them, and pulled the door shut.

"What's going on?" she demanded. Jack took a deep breath, ignoring Gwen's harsh panic, and turned toward Ianto, focusing on him.

"It didn't work," Jack said. "Frobisher wouldn't deal."

"What happened?" Ianto asked again, this time with more force behind it, as if he sensed something had gone terribly wrong.

"No leverage," Jack whispered, his eyes slipping shut. "He took my family."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Taamar for beta-reading and support.  
> If you are reading this story here, especially for the first time, I'd love to hear from you. Even though I've shared it elsewhere, it's still nice to know if people are reading. Thanks and enjoy!
> 
>  


	12. Day Three - Ianto

12: Day Three - Ianto

Ianto felt the tight ball of fear and apprehension in his stomach begin to relax. Jack was still upset, and Gwen obviously quite confused, but Ianto felt like something had finally gone right for them in spite of Jack's belief to the contrary.

"Jack, your family is safe," Ianto murmured, enjoying the look of shock on Jack's face.

"How?" Jack asked. "Frobisher said he's holding them as collateral."

"He's lying—well, bluffing. We had someone watching over them," Ianto replied. "I made sure of it that first night when it all started. When Johnson's team started moving in, they got her and Steven out. Bryan called and told me while you were gone."

Jack's relief became tempered with confusion and concern.

"Where are they?"

"A safe house in London."

"But how did you know about them?"

"Know what?" asked Gwen. "Jack, what is he talking about? What's going on?"

Jack didn't answer Gwen, but continued to watch Ianto, who shrugged. "I know everything, remember?"

"Know what?" Gwen asked again, this time with more force. "Jack, talk to me."

"I have a daughter and a grandson," said Jack. "Frobisher claims he's holding them hostage to ensure my silence and cooperation." For a moment, Ianto thought Jack was going to step forward and embrace him, but instead Jack simply nodded, eyes bright. "Thank you for keeping them safe."

"You're welcome. Do you think we…" He paused, glancing at Gwen. "Do we need to move any others?" he asked. Jack shook his head before Gwen could even open her mouth to speak.

"My family is safe, my team is safe. Frobisher has nothing else to hold over me."

"I don't understand," Gwen said, now turning toward Ianto, who ignored her. He focused on Jack, willing the man to understand his unspoken meaning.

"Is the risk of exposure enough to hold over him though?" Ianto asked. "Or do we need to move any others?" He lowered his voice at the end, knowing Gwen, knowing she would protest when she understood his meaning.

Jack, however, understood immediately. He glanced up in surprise once more, as if seeing Ianto in yet another new light. "Could you?" he asked, and Ianto nodded. "Would you?"

"If you feel it necessary," said Ianto. "All I have to do is make the call." He wasn't actually sure that Bryan would agree, but he suspected it might come up at some point or another. There was silence for a moment as Jack narrowed his eyes, considering their options, before nodding curtly.

"Do it."

Which was when Gwen exploded.

"Do what?" she demanded. "What are you talking about? It's like a secret code, for god's sake! We're supposed to be working together."

"We are," said Jack, his voice tired and resigned. "But you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

"Like Flat Holm?" Gwen demanded bitterly, and Ianto glanced at her in surprise. There was a story there, he sensed, but he would have to learn it later. Flat Holm was something Jack been unwilling to share with the rest of the team, but obviously things had changed.

"Like Flat Holm," Jack said, his voice cold. "Remember how that turned out."

Gwen seethed silently for a moment before turning on Ianto. "Tell me," she demanded.

"It's not my decision," Ianto said, actually stepping away from her aggressive impatience. The look on her face told Ianto that she was not going to let it drop, though, no matter what either of them said. She glanced from him to Jack and back to him, studying them as if determined to puzzle it out on her own.

"Jack's family is safe, but you asked about moving any others. Your family? Mine?" She turned to Jack and narrowed her eyes. "You wouldn't capitulate for them, but you need more to force Frobisher's hand. Which means…"

And all of a sudden her eyes went wide as she realized the situation for what it was: one of those terrible decisions she had always refused to accept as necessary. From the look of anger and disgust in her eyes, she had not changed much since Ianto had left.

"No," she said, voice flat and harsh. "You will not do to him what he threatened to do to you. You can't."

"I can, and I will," said Jack. "We're talking about the fate of the world's children here, Gwen. Do you really think his family should be held above the rest?"

"No, but if you hold them hostage, you're no better than him!" she cried. She stepped into Jack's personal space, looked almost ready to push on his chest. A part of Ianto wanted to roll his eyes at her never-ending belief in the good of human beings, while another part of him, the more ruthless part honed at Torchwood and sharpened at UNIT, was irritated with her naiveté.

"We have to use the pieces we're given," Ianto said, stepping in and drawing Gwen's attention. He did not want to watch her tear down Jack; he'd seen it enough, and he was going to stop it. Not only because he had complete faith in Jack, but because she still couldn't see how her constant pushing would hurt Jack, as it had so many times in the past. They needed him strong and determined, not upset and undermined by Gwen's lack of support.

"It's not a game, Ianto!" she snapped, and he grinned somewhat wolfishly at her.

"Actually, in a way it is. It's a bit like chess: we take one of his pieces to strengthen our position and force his next move."

"Children are not chess pieces," she breathed.

"Tell that to the 456," he snapped back. "Do you really believe they have any moral qualms about what they're doing? They're  _using_  our children, Gwen, as hollow mouthpieces to scare us. Who's to say what else they want them for. It's a question of doing what you have to do, and if that includes playing dirty, then we get dirty."

"No," she said. "If you do, you lose who you are, what you're fighting for. You become like them."

"We're fighting for the children," said Ianto. "I don't think anyone will lose sight of that after today."

"You can't use other children, though—it's wrong and you know it!" Gwen was clinging to her righteous anger, as she always had, but Ianto knew it would soon be defeated.

"It's strategy, like chess. You've worked for Torchwood for how long now, Gwen? We do what we  _have_ to do, whether it's right or wrong, whether you like it or not."

Something about his statement apparently infuriated Gwen, and she slapped him harshly. As her hand came back for a second slap, or possibly a strong right hook, Jack grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"Enough," he snapped.

"You're not Torchwood anymore," she hissed at Ianto, ignoring Jack. Ianto saw tears in her eyes. Whether Jack was gripping her wrist too tightly or she was that angry, Ianto wasn't sure. For the second time in twenty-four hours his cheek stung from Gwen's hand.

"You left us," she continued, her voice barely steady. "You ran away and you left us without a word, without a reason. You don't get to come back and tell us what to do, tell us to kidnap a man's family to hold as ransom against him."

Ianto caught Jack's eye, indicating he was all right and could handle the situation. Gwen was obviously spoiling for a confrontation, and truth be told, he was so wired he could go for the release as well. Jack dropped her hand and stepped back while Ianto moved closer.

"I will do whatever it takes to save the children of this planet," he said, earning another glare from her. "Would you?"

"Not this," she said, remaining defiant.

"Then it's a good thing you're not in charge," Ianto replied, stepping calmly to Jack's side. He remembered these confrontations, starting from Gwen's first day at Torchwood. Her earnest desire to do what she considered the right thing had too often failed to realize that sometimes doing the right thing wasn't possible. Sometimes there was no choice but to make the hard decisions, the ones that hurt.

Gwen glanced at Jack, then looked back to Ianto. "I don't know who you are anymore," she said. "You never would have suggested such a thing before you left."

Ianto laughed hollowly. "Seriously? Do you have any idea of some of the things I did in Cardiff? How much I covered up, how many lies I told to protect people, to keep them safe and alive and sane?" She didn't answer, so he kept going, determined to make her see reason even if he reduced her to tears.

"I staged car accidents, drownings, and suicides. I mutilated bodies to match the cause of death. I lied to friends and families. I mislead police. I handed out Retcon like candy. I planted false stories in the news." He took a deep breath, ignoring the way Jack had gone very still next to him. "I didn't like it, Gwen, any of it, but I did it. I did it to protect the people of Cardiff, and sometimes the entire world."

He stepped away from Jack, his arms stiff at his side as he tried to keep some semblance of control. Just because he had done these things didn't mean he didn't regret them; they haunted his nightmares, even after leaving Torchwood. "I couldn't tell a man's wife that her husband was hit by rogue space drone. I couldn't tell a sister that her brother was killed by extraterrestrial jellyfish. I couldn't tell grieving parents their son was attacked by Weevils. But I stopped the drone, and killed the jellyfish, and threw the Weevil back into the sewers."

She opened her mouth, mostly likely to protest, but Ianto continued relentlessly.

"We can't tell the world that aliens from another planet are using their children for god knows what reason. So we do whatever we have to do in order to stop them, and then we make up another story, and the world remains safe and ignorant for a little bit longer."

"And us?" she asked, her voice quiet and shaking. "What about us? We'll know what really happened. We'll know what we did."

"We carry on," he said softly, holding out his hand in a gesture of reconciliation. "We keep doing what we have to do, but we do it with dignity and compassion, not dishonor and cruelty. And we never forget."

"I don't like it," she said, taking his hand. He felt her tremors and squeezed her fingers in support.

"You wouldn't be Gwen Cooper if you did," he said, forcing his voice to sound lighter than he felt. Gwen might be stubborn to a fault at times, and often failed to see the big picture as well as the sacrifices required to maintain it, but her unsullied idealism was endearing, in an exasperating sort of way.

"They can't be harmed," she said, and Jack finally entered the conversation with a loud snort. They both turned to look at him in surprise, but Jack motioned them to continue.

"Of course they won't be harmed. We're not talking them hostage for enjoyment, Gwen," he said. "I'm not a thug."

"I don't know what you are anymore," she said, sounding disappointed, even disillusioned. He pulled her into a reluctant embrace and whispered in her ear.

"I'm Torchwood," he said, suddenly struck by the truth of it. Yes, he had left Torchwood, but Torchwood had not left him. "I'd like to think of myself as one of the good guys."

"Frobisher won't think so," she said, pulling away and wiping at her eyes. "So what's your plan?" Glancing back at Jack she cocked an eyebrow. "Since most of yours involve simply blustering in with guns cocked and ready."

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed. "I plan."

"Ianto plans better," she replied. "So tell me."

Ianto stepped back and considered the situation. "I'll call Bryan and ask him to take Frobisher's family into custody. When I get word that they're secure, we'll call him and make the deal."

"What deal?" asked Rhys, stepping into the hallway with the man he'd been talking to, Clement McDonald. "Having a skull session in the hallway?"

"Just planning our next move," said Jack, a forced grin on his face that quickly fell. Ianto, however, wasn't watching Jack and Rhys, but rather the other man. Gwen was frowning as well.

"What's wrong, Clem?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

The older man was shaking. "He's the same. He's the same. He's the same."

"What's he going on about?" asked Rhys, and Gwen shook her head, obviously confused.

"He was the man!" Clem exclaimed, pointing a shaking finger at Jack. "You are in every nightmare I've ever had!" Ianto tensed, sensing a confrontation. Jack, on the other hand, was open and conciliatory.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, stepping closer and holding out his hands. "I'm so sorry."

Clem sucked in a stuttering breath before throwing himself at Jack, knocking him to the ground hard with an ugly crack as Jack's skull hit the concrete. Before anyone could react, Clem had grabbed Jack's head and had crashed it onto the ground again, screaming as he began to pummel Jack with his hands.

"Every time I close my eyes I see the bus, the light, and my friends following you!" He screamed so loud his voice cracked, and he punctuated every word with another punch, another slap, another hard hit against the concrete floor. Jack made no effort to fight back, and his eyes rolled toward the back of his head as blood trickled from his nose and mouth.

Whether Jack was dead or unconscious, Ianto wasn't sure, but before the man destroyed Jack with his bare hands, Ianto and Rhys hauled him away, struggling the entire time.

"He killed them!" he shouted as Gwen tried to calm him, reaching out to the man. "He sent them away and killed them all and now I've killed him! I'm just as bad as he is!"

"Clem, it's all right. Jack will be all right." Gwen stepped closer. "You're all right. You're safe, nothing is going to happen here."

She held out her hand and after a long moment, he took it and sagged into her arms. Ianto glanced at Rhys, who nodded at him, as if reading his mind. Ianto hurried over to Jack, pulling him into his lap and trying to ignore the blood he felt seeping from the back of Jack's head.

It brought back memories, memories Ianto had never thought to relive, of Jack dying and Ianto holding him as he revived. The first time it had happened, Ianto had been emotionally unprepared, and though Jack had told them he would always come back, Ianto had held him close, waiting for that first breath and the stuttering heartbeat that would prove it true. When Jack had revived, he had immediately reached for Ianto's hand, and after regaining his voice, his first words had been, "Thank you."

After that, Ianto had always tried to sit with Jack when he revived. It hadn't happened often, as Jack had not only experienced enough death during his year away, but had seen how much it upset Ianto. He had been more careful with his life, recognizing that his inability to die, while reassuring in a morbid way, was still frightening and upsetting. Knowing how much it hurt Jack, Ianto had been glad of the change. He had often thought about Jack after he'd left, wondered if Jack had continued being careful, or if he'd grown more reckless.

Now, however, it did not matter. Ianto held Jack, hands moving restlessly across his arms. Gwen was murmuring reassuring words to Clem as she stroked his back, Rhys hovering protectively close. Ianto sighed, angry that he hadn't seen Clem's intentions and prevented the attack. Before he could dwell on it any longer, however, Jack opened his eyes and glanced up at him.

"Thank you," he whispered, and Ianto felt his throat tighten with emotion, so that he could only nod.

Clem became hysterical when he saw that Jack was alive and conscious, and he broke away from Gwen. She ran after him with Rhys close behind, while Ianto stayed and helped Jack to stand, staying close, wanting to touch and hold and reassure himself that Jack was there, was all right, was alive.

"Ouch," said Jack, rubbing the back of his head, his hand coming away with blood. "And yuck."

"Are you all right?" Ianto asked quietly, and Jack nodded, wiping the blood from his face with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.

"I will be. Didn't die, at least." He must have seen the look on Ianto's face, because he embraced Ianto and apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," said Ianto. "But why did he attack you like that? What was he talking about—the bus, the light?"

"He must have been one of the children," Jack replied, gazing down the hallway with such a look of pain and regret on his face that Ianto laid a hand on Jack's arm, squeezing it in support. "We took them out to the Scottish countryside on a bus. I walked them toward the rendezvous point. There was a bright light, and then they were gone. He must have escaped."

"He's still connected to them somehow," said Ianto, trying not to think about what Jack had just told him. "Maybe he can help us. Maybe we can figure out how they are communicating, if they're able to use him as well."

"Maybe," said Jack, letting his eyes slip closed. He stretched his neck and took a deep breath before opening his eyes. "But first you need to make that phone call. We need to get into Thames House to know what we're dealing with."

Ianto nodded. "I'm supposed to wait for the next call, but I spoke to Brian an hour ago, so hopefully it won't be a problem. I don't think he would actually fire me." He tried to joke about it, but he couldn't hide the growing fear that when this was all over—assuming they survived —he could very well lose his job, go to prison, or worse.

Jack placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "You're always welcome back at Torchwood," he said, and he clearly meant it as both an invitation and a suggestion. Ianto shook his head with fond exasperation at the job offer, but did not reply. Jack took it as an answer and put both his hands on Ianto's shoulders, his eyes intense.

"You just said it yourself, to Gwen. You're Torchwood, Ianto. It's not a job you really leave…even if you pretend to Retcon yourself."

"Yes, but Torchwood is…" He trailed off. "One fell years ago, Four's been missing even longer, and Two was shut down over the summer. The Hub is destroyed, Jack. Torchwood is gone."

Jack stared at him, but didn't reply. Ianto stepped out of Jack's tense hold and sighed. "This could be your chance, you know. Nothing tying you here anymore, no responsibility. You could travel again, see the universe."

"Is that what you think I want?" Jack asked, eyes flashing. "You assume that because the Hub is destroyed, now I can leave everything behind?"

Ianto wasn't quite sure how to reply, and glanced away, partly in shame, partly in confusion. He had spoken almost without thinking, Jack's invitation to return hitting too many nerves, but when he stopped to think about it, yes, it was what he thought Jack would do. He'd always wondered why Jack had returned, in spite of everything Jack had said. A man from the fifty-first century had little reason to remain in the twenty-first, particularly a man with such different values, different experiences.

"Couldn't you?" Ianto asked. "After all Torchwood has done, why couldn't you walk away now that it's gone? You have no obligation to stay, to rebuild. I doubt they even will."

"This planet needs Torchwood," said Jack.

"This planet killed Torchwood," Ianto shot back. "They put a bomb in your stomach and blew up over a hundred years of history without a second thought, all to cover up their own mistakes."

Jack's arms crossed in his defensive position. "Why so cynical?" he asked. "You had every reason to hate Torchwood after Canary Wharf, but you not only came back, you stayed."

"And then I left," Ianto replied. He wondered why they were talking about this now, when there were so many other important things to be talking about. He held Jack's eyes, saw the smirk on Jack's lips as he stepped closer into Ianto's personal space in that unique way he had of intimidating people with his charismatic presence. And though Ianto had been away from Jack for ten months, he refused to be cowed by it, even if he felt it all the way down to his toes.

"And then you came back," said Jack quietly. Ianto let his eyes slip closed, but felt Jack lean even closer, until he was breathing against Ianto's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "For me."

Ianto took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He opened his eyes expecting to find Jack smirking horribly at him, but instead Jack reached up to cup Ianto's face the moment he opened his eyes. He stroked Ianto's cheek, running his thumb over Ianto's lower lip, the look in his eyes far from the teasing guise Ianto had expected.

"Jack, I—" Ianto started, but Jack literally shushed him.

"I left too," Jack said. "I came back. For you." His other hand came around Ianto's waist and he stepped closer once more, this time with no intent other than to be closer. "And that's why I'm staying."

For a long moment they gazed at one another, until Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's, and they kissed right there in the corridor, arms wrapped around one another, legs pressing together, hands running along one another's arms and shoulders and hair as their tongues met and tasted and explored. Ianto knew he should be making the call, should be saving the world, but at that moment, all that he could think about were Jack's lips against his own, Jack's hands running through his hair. All that mattered was that he was back by Jack's side, where he was supposed to be, where he wanted to be, where he needed to be.

Because deep down, Ianto was Torchwood.

* * *

Being Torchwood apparently meant being interrupted, this time by Mickey. Ianto was both disappointed and relieved—disappointed to stop when his body was begging for release, but relieved that the decision to move it elsewhere and continue was taken out of their hands. He stepped back with a nervous grin and slipped away while Jack turned to Mickey. He had a phone call to make, after all, not to mention far too much to think about.

Bryan did not want to accommodate Ianto's request. He was reluctant to act so directly against the British government, and Ianto could understand why. It was one of the more difficult conversations he'd had with his handler since joining UNIT, and it didn't make Jack's comment about rejoining Torchwood any easier to deal with, but Ianto was nothing if not focused when he needed to be. He put it aside and made his case, pointing out that the government had moved against Torchwood first, leaving UNIT out as well. In the end, Brian reluctantly agreed. Ianto regretted putting his mentor in such a situation, but deep down he knew that Frobisher needed them, and that the only way to convince the secretary to let Torchwood work with Whitehall was to apply the same leverage the man had tried to hold over Jack.

It would take several hours to complete the operation. Gwen had helped Clem calm down and was sitting with him and Martha, trying to understand his unique history and strange abilities when it came to the 456. Jack had cleaned up and was sitting with Mickey, watching Thames House. Ianto waited alone, feeling that strange sense of separation he had felt before, that he was not really part of this team, no matter what Jack had suggested. Gwen's words bounced around in his head, contradicting everything Jack had said.

He was also still rattled at how easy it had been to find himself practically falling back into bed with Jack twice within the past twenty-four hours. He had tried to leave Torchwood and Jack behind, tried to protect Jack and the others, and yet here he was, embroiled in yet another end-of-the-world scenario at Jack's side, with the very real possibility that they could all end up dead. Except Jack, of course. Jack would be left behind to mourn, again and alone.

It was what Ianto had wanted so desperately to avoid. And so he tried to steer clear of Jack for the rest of the day, holing up in his makeshift room with a laptop, a notebook, and a pencil, and taking as many notes as he could. He wrote down anything he could think of relating to the situation, drawing diagrams, looking things up, making lists, asking questions. Gwen had said something about having a plan, and Ianto had too many memories of Jack walking in with guns blazing, and of escaping by the proverbial seat of their pants, to let them face the 456 without one.

Because this was different. This was their own government trying to silence them, trying to kill them. In some ways, it was worse than facing aliens. Like finding cannibals in the Beacons, finding the enemy in Whitehall was gut-wrenching and demoralizing. It also changed the game, and for this they needed a solid plan. Politicians were worse than aliens. Jack could improvise against aliens and hope to succeed, but Ianto wanted strategy for this. So he studied and wrote and tried not to think about Jack, but about the 456, the children, the plan.

When Bryan called, however, he knew he had to break his solitude and go to the others. He dreaded Gwen's reaction more than anything, but carefully set his features to professional mode, determined not to fight with her again. They did what was necessary, and right now, this was necessary. That didn't mean any of them had to like it.

He knocked quietly on the door frame where Mickey had set up his system. Jack glanced up with bleary eyes.

"It's done," Ianto said, feeling the weight of it.

Jack stood immediately and laid a hand on Ianto's shoulder. "Thank you. I know it wasn't easy for you."

"All I did was make a phone call," Ianto replied. Jack nodded.

"I know it was a hard call to make, though," he said. "So now it's my turn." Ianto stopped him before he could pull out his phone.

"Let me," he said, instinct telling him it was the right thing to do. Jack would react with anger, having already talked to Frobisher once and been told his own family was held hostage against his good behavior. Yet Ianto knew this approach would get him nowhere with the Permanent Secretary. Having been in the Home Office for several weeks, Ianto had the very distinct impression that calm, cool, and collected would be the key to this, and Jack was anything but that when his emotions got the better of him. Ianto hated that he himself could be so ruthless at times, but he had always been able to compartmentalize the various aspects of his life to focus and function better. This would be one of those times.

"I can do this," Jack protested. "I can even keep my cool—"

"I know," Ianto soothed. "I know. I think it would be better strategy if I make the call and make our case. It might throw him for a loop and give us an advantage, especially since he has nothing on me. I've been missing for ten months."

"He could still go after your family," Jack pointed out.

"They're safe," said Ianto. "I told you, I made sure the night the Hub blew up. I do know what I'm doing."

I know," said Jack, nodding with a sigh. "But so do I. I want to make this call."

"Which is exactly why I should," said Ianto. "I can hear it in your voice. You're angry at him, pissed off. You should be, because you did them a favor in 1965 and now they're trying to kill you for it. I wasn't there. I can be distant, unaffected, ruthless. I can get us in."

"Why, have you got more tricks up your sleeve?" Jack asked. Hearing the teasing lilt to Jack's voice, Ianto suspected the man was going to give in. He smiled and flirted back; he'd missed it, after all.

"Amongst other things," he replied with a wink. "Now, let me use your phone so mine isn't traced and rendered useless." He held out his hand, waiting.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Bossy," he muttered under his breath.

"Assertive," Ianto corrected him, and Jack laughed.

"Nope, definitely bossy. Always bossing the boss around."

"You're not my boss," Ianto automatically replied, and glanced up when he was met with dead silence and found Jack staring at him, eyebrows raised. "I mean, technically I resigned and work for UNIT now, although you  _are_  in charge here and you know I'll do whatever you ask…"

Jack's face broke into a wide grin. "Gotcha," he whispered, punctuating it with a kiss. He slipped his phone into Ianto's hand and stepped back. "We can't call from here, though."

"Then let's start for London," Ianto suggested. "I'll call from the car."

"Where're you going then?" asked Rhys, walking in behind his wife. Gwen was frowning at both of them.

"You're not leaving, are you?" she asked, her voice laced with fear. "Both of you?"

"We're going to London," Jack answered. "We're going to Thames House to not only see what we're up against, but kick its arse while we're there."

Ianto wasn't quite sure about the efficacy of that particular plan, but didn't say anything yet. He always knew when and when not to call Jack's bravado, and now was not the moment. They could iron out the details on the trip to London. Gwen glanced back and forth between them.

"Fine. When are we leaving?" she asked. Ianto swallowed a sigh, knowing they were about to run headlong into another one of Gwen's immovable walls. Apparently Rhys knew it to, because the other Welshman rolled his eyes. To his surprise, Jack did not bristle at Gwen's implication, but took a deep breath of his own before walking up to Gwen and taking her hands.

"I need you here," he said. "I need someone safe and away from London. Keep working with Martha and Mickey, watch over Clem, and be ready for anything that happens. You're in charge."

"Jack, I'm useless here," she said. "I should be with you, in London. I can help."

Jack shook his head. "There's nothing you can do that we can't. You'd be an extra body to shoot or throw in prison." Ianto couldn't help but snort, and Gwen looked around Jack at him.

"He's got a point. There is quite a high likelihood that this trip will end in disaster," he offered, earning a dark look from Jack. "In which case, you'll need to come up with another plan. It's sound strategy to have backup."

"Back to games, then?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Believe me, this is not a game you want to play right now," Ianto replied, and to his surprise, she crumpled instantly and threw her arms around him. Ianto glanced at Rhys in surprise. Jack mouthed, "Hormones."

"Shut up, Jack," said Gwen, stepping away and straightening Ianto's jacket. "We just got him back and I don't want to lose him. So you be careful," she said, addressing Ianto. "And keep an eye on Jack, don't let him do anything stupid."

"Why does everyone assume I'm going to waltz right in and punch someone in the face?" Jack exclaimed, but it was good-natured, and even Rhys laughed, albeit somewhat nervously.

"Because that's what you do," said Gwen. Jack bristled defensively, but Ianto saw the element of play in it, his way of dealing with the tension of the entire situation.

"Maybe I'll offer them a cup of tea and sit down to talk," he offered. Gwen raised an eyebrow while Ianto bit back a grin at the mental picture.

"Better not, sir," he said. "We'd definitely lose the game then."

"I'll have you know I can make a damn good cup of tea now," Jack said, pointing his finger at Ianto, eyes now sparkling with mirth. "Mickey taught me his first week at the Hub."

"Then no doubt the world is saved," Ianto replied, and they all laughed. Rhys shook hands with both Jack and Ianto while Gwen hugged Jack, whispering something in his ear that had Jack smiling and nodding as they both looked at Ianto. He rolled his eyes, imagining any number of inappropriate and inaccurate statements.

"Things to do, places to go, people to see," he said. "It's not exactly a quick trip to London, particularly in the middle of a planetary crisis."

"Then let's go. Hold the fort, Gwen," said Jack. "We'll be in contact as soon as we have something to report."

After a quick goodbye to Martha and Mickey, they left Flat Holm and started the drive to London in comfortable silence. It wasn't until they had left the city limits that Ianto called John Frobisher, his mouth dry and his heart pounding; he hoped that he looked and sounded much calmer than he felt.

The phone rang three times before Frobisher picked it up with a curt, "Now is not the time, Captain Harkness. I've already given you my answer."

"My name is Ianto Jones, sir, and I'd like you to reconsider our request."

" _Your_  request?" asked Frobisher, sounding surprised. "So the errant sheep has returned to the Torchwood fold."

"Yes, well, when the Permanent Undersecretary to the Home Office blows up the fold, I'm afraid there isn't much choice. I stand with Torchwood, sir. And right now you need Torchwood."

Jack reached out and squeezed Ianto's hand, and Ianto held it tight as the conversation continued.

"I beg to differ, Mr. Jones. Torchwood is dead. And should you need any convincing, I can order the detainment of your own family as easily as I did Captain Harkness's family."

Ianto felt his anger begin to simmer, that Frobisher was threatening him so soon into the conversation. He was glad that Bryan was keeping an eye on Rhiannon and her family.

"We only want to help, Mr. Frobisher. And I assure you, Captain Harkness is more qualified than anyone on this planet to deal with this situation."

"Captain Harkness is the reason we're in this situation, Mr. Jones!" Frobisher snapped at him. "Or were you unaware of his involvement in our previous encounter with the 456?"

"I am aware of Captain Harkness's history," Ianto replied, gritting his teeth as the irony hit him, that there was so much that he didn't know about Jack. This one black mark barely scratched the surface; how long had this been eating Jack alive? "I am also aware that Captain Harkness was asked to assist in the events of 1965, and did not in fact dictate them whatsoever."

"Then I'm sure you're also aware of his tendency toward bullheaded recklessness and impulsive improvisation," said Frobisher. "We'd like to keep this situation under control."

"You mean, you want to hide the truth from the public in any way possible. Both the past and the present."

"If I recall, Torchwood was built on a foundation of secrets, Mr. Jones. You're not one to talk."

Ianto smirked to himself; Frobisher had no idea the secrets Ianto knew. "Torchwood was not elected by the people, sir, nor appointed by the elected officials. We answer only to the Queen, with our funding provided directly by the royal treasury. Our secrets are hers."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Jones, what exactly is the point of this conversation? I'm sure you didn't phone to argue semantics."

"Captain Harkness's family is perfectly safe," said Ianto, immensely enjoying Frobisher's reaction of a muttered curse. He saw Jack grin beside him. "I know this because I ensured it personally from the moment the current situation began. We're calling your bluff, Mr. Frobisher, and raising you three."

"What are you talking about?" For the first time, the other man sounded unsure; Ianto almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

"As much as we would enjoy going public with both the events of 1965 and the current recordings we have from Thames House, Torchwood does understand the need for secrecy in certain delicate situations."

"How magnanimous of you," Frobisher snapped.

"Not really. It's more about self-preservation."

"Torchwood is dead," Frobisher said once more. "There is nothing to preserve. This is a situation for the government, not the Queen's lapdogs."

Ianto frowned. "There is no need for name-calling, sir. We want to meet with the 456."

"No." Simple and direct.

"Then perhaps you should check on your family, sir. Or would you like me to have them call you first? They can assure you that we are holding them in perfect comfort and treating them far more civilly than you've treated us."

"You bastard," Frobisher whispered. The gut-wrenching fear in the man's voice was upsetting, but Ianto stayed the course. They did what they had to do.

"They won't be harmed," he assured the other man. "As long as we are allowed into Thames House to assess the situation and offer Torchwood's vast experience in such matters as assistance."

"You're bluffing," Frobisher said. Ianto took the phone from his ear, pressed several buttons, and returned to the call.

"Check your messages, sir." Bryan had sent Ianto a photo of the Frobishers, scared but safe. Ianto had screencapped it and sent it to Jack's phone, and now screencapped it again and texted it to Frobisher in London. He was starting to understand what Gwen had opposed so strongly; he felt sick with what he had done, with how coolly he was able to tell a man his family was being held hostage. As if sensing his doubts, Jack squeezed Ianto's hand in support.

"If you harm them in any way, so help me god…" started John Frobisher, then cut off abruptly. "What do you want?"

"I told you, sir, we want to speak to the 456."

"Why?" demanded the other man.

"Because we can help. We understand these types of situations because we've dealt with alien incursions before. And because we have no intention of allowing the 456 to take any more children should they demand another twelve."

"You think awfully highly of yourself, Mr. Jones." Ianto could almost hear the disgust in the man's voice. "I always knew Harkness was an arrogant bastard, but hadn't realized he'd passed it on to the rest of his team."

"I prefer to think of it as confidence, sir. We want to meet with the 456." Repeat, repeat, repeat: the best way to get the message across.

"Fine."

"I'm glad we understand one another, sir." Jack gave him a sideways grin, and Ianto rolled his eyes at the admittedly lame cliché.

"I'm afraid we really don't," said Frobisher. "But you'll have your say. And then I will destroy you."

"I will let my superiors know your intentions," Ianto replied somewhat jauntily.

"You can't hide behind the Queen's throne," Frobisher snapped, and Ianto grinned.

"I'm not hiding. I'm standing right next to it, with Captain Harkness on one side and Torchwood at my back."

Jack silently pumped their joined hands in the air; yes, it was a ridiculous line, but sometimes dramatic was the way to go.

There was silence once more from the other end of the line, until Frobisher finally spoke. "Tell Captain Harkness that he and his team—yourself included—will be silenced when this is over."

"I'd like to see you try, sir."

Frobisher hung up.

Ianto blew out a long breath and let his head fall back against the seat. He set the phone down, took his hand from Jack's, and rubbed at his temples until he couldn't help but laugh, quietly at first, until it was bursting out, and Jack was looking curiously at him.

"All right?" he asked, and Ianto nodded.

"We're in. Let's do this."

Jack took his hand again and brought it to his lips for a quick kiss before releasing it. "You're amazing, Ianto Jones."

Ianto smiled in response and turned to glance out the window as the road raced by. Though he knew they probably shouldn't, Jack's words calmed him. He let his mind wander and they rode silently, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, until Jack began to ask about what Ianto had done with UNIT. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding having to talk about what would happen once they arrived at Thames House. Ianto in turn asked about some of the cases Torchwood had worked on, particularly its role in bringing the Earth back to the solar system after it had been stolen by Daleks. Ianto had been in Australia and seriously injured, after all, and the reports he'd read after returning home had painted a confused, incomplete picture of events.

After a while they fell silent once more, until Ianto pulled out the notes he had taken back at the island. He started to go over them with Jack, sharing his ideas and concerns. It was not unlike the days when they would sit in Jack's office and talk about their latest case, and Ianto felt a sense of rightness about it all. They debated various approaches and worked out a rough plan of sorts.

It was, of course, shot to hell less than an hour from Thames House.

Jack's phone rang. He glanced at the number and answered quickly. "Gwen. Is everything all right?"

"Frobisher spoke with the 456 again." She took a shaky breath. "They've made their demand."

Heart in his throat, Ianto whispered, "What do they want?" She sobbed out a reply.

"Ianto, they want ten percent."

Jack was eyeing him warily, sensing it was not good. Ianto didn't want to know the answer to his next question. "Ten percent of what?"

"They want more children. You were right, Ianto. They want ten percent of the world's children."

And just like that, the world ended.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Taamar for her amazing patience and beta work!


	13. Day Four - Jack

Day Four - Jack

Jack stared at the road straight ahead, barely able to process what Ianto had told him. And yet, it made horrifying sense. They had suspected it, hadn't they? The 456 had returned for more children. Why, they still didn't know, but Gwen had said the aliens had brought one with them, one of the children from 1965. He was still alive, hooked up to machines inside the alien tank, and he hadn't aged.

Hadn't aged  _in forty-five years_.

That, more than anything, broke Jack's heart and soul. Immortality was a nightmare as an adult; he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy yet alone an innocent child. If he had known what he was sending these children to in 1965…what would he have done? Lead them away? Fought back? How? He'd been a bitter, lonely man in 1965. They'd hired him not because he couldn't die, but because he didn't care. At least, not at that point.

It hadn't taken long for him to start hating himself after that. Slowly but surely, he'd moved past it, buried it, and tried to atone for it with Torchwood. Once he took over Torchwood Three, he'd wanted more than anything to do right by the poor souls trapped in situations like the one he'd faced in 1965. He recognized a no-win scenario when he saw it—Jasmine Pierce came to mind every time—but he also knew that sometimes you had to fight back to keep that spark of humanity alive. And this was one of those times.

"Jack?" Ianto asked hesitantly. Jack couldn't imagine what the other man was thinking at that moment, what Ianto was thinking about  _him._ Nothing but disappointment and disgust, most likely. Jack couldn't blame Ianto. How had he given in so easily? Why hadn't he considered the fate of those children? He could deal with sending them to their deaths; it was twelve children or millions struck down by a flu pandemic. But sending them into what appeared to be never-ending slavery? Jack wasn't just disgusted with himself; he hated himself, deeply and passionately.

"What?" he asked wearily.

"What are we going to do?"

Jack was silent. He did not look at Ianto, but kept his eyes on the road ahead. He couldn't bear to see the accusation he was certain he'd see in Ianto's normally understanding, compassionate gaze. "We stop them."

"Jack…"

"I don't know how," Jack continued calmly, far more rationally than he felt. "But we will stop them. We'll figure it out and do whatever we have to do to save those children."

"Ten percent, Jack," Ianto murmured. Jack glanced sideways and saw Ianto shake his head, his face pale. "That's millions."

"I know!" Jack snapped. He didn't need to have the numbers thrown at him, he was aware of the implications. It was his fault, after all. His fault that boy was suffering, his fault the 456 had come back for more. "But we are going to save them, starting with the boy in that tank."

"What?" asked Ianto, obviously startled.

"We're saving him. Tonight."

"Jack…" he started again, and this time Jack shook his head.

"Don't try to talk me out of it, Ianto. It's my fault he's in there. My responsibility. I led him right to these bastards, gave them twelve kids to do God knows what to for almost fifty years. We save him, or we end his suffering as humanely as possible."

To his surprise, Ianto did not argue. He nodded, and his voice sounded stronger when he spoke again. "All right. How?"

"Simple. We go in and we destroy the creature in that tank to get him out. That will send our message: no more children. Not this time."

Ianto pinched the bridge of his nose. "I knew you were going to say that," he muttered. "It won't work, Jack. These are hostile aliens with advanced technology. Murdering their ambassador is guaranteed to provoke a retaliatory response, starting with us."

"And our response is that they will not get a single solitary child, no matter what."

"What if they take them anyway?" Ianto demanded. "How do we fight back, then?"

Jack growled. "Okay, what do you suggest?"

"Negotiate with them." Ianto was blunt, and Jack looked at him in shock.

"Absolutely not! We can't—"

"It buys us time, Jack," Ianto replied. "I'm not saying we give them the kids. We negotiate for the boy in the tank, demand him as a sign of good faith that he's unharmed and that the others will be safe as well."

"We're not giving them any others!" Jack practically shouted.

"I know that!" Ianto yelled back. "But we can't walk in, shoot a few aliens, and hope we scare them off for another fifty years. It won't work."

"And you think talking nicely over tea will?" Jack threw back. It felt remarkably similar to a number of other confrontations they'd had in Cardiff before Ianto had left. Jack had quickly come to count on Ianto to call him on the things Jack forgot, on half-baked plans that would only get them killed. Yet the situation with the 456 was Jack's fault, and it felt as if Ianto's questioning was not of the future, but of the past, of Jack's actions. Jack hated being judged by a man whose good opinion he valued more than anything, even though he knew he deserved it.

"I think we have to try," Ianto replied quietly.

"I'm not negotiating with terrorists," Jack growled. "Because that's exactly what they are: they're using the children to force us into handing them over. I won't let it happen again."

"Then you have to know what you're doing," Ianto said, sounding exasperated. "Killing the 456 in Thames House will only get us killed." He paused and looked out the window. "And one of us won't come back."

Jack almost snapped back something about Ianto leaving again, but held his tongue at the last minute. He didn't want to upset Ianto more than he already had, although he suspected it might happen anyway. "I won't negotiate."

"Dammit, Jack, don't you get it? I'm saying that we demand the boy in the tank as proof that the ten percent won't be harmed. But it's a sodding bluff!" Ianto let his head fall back against the passenger seat, frustrated. Which suddenly caused Jack to grin, seeing the other man display an unusual impatience.

"Right. A bluff, a lie, call it what you will. It's a way to get the boy out safely."

"Exactly," said Ianto, nodding to himself. "Now you're listening."

"Yes, I'm listening," Jack replied, trying to keep his voice casual and not inflame the situation more. "But have  _you_  thought this through? What if they refuse?"

"Then we go in anyway," said Ianto so simply that Jack couldn't hold back a laugh.

"And kill the ambassador?"

"Preferably not. Interstellar war is a good thing to avoid."

Jack laughed quietly again, the momentary tension beginning to dissipate as his mind focused once more on the task at hand. "What will we need?" he asked. "There must be all kinds of things in those notes of yours."

Ianto gave him a withering look that Jack returned with an innocent smile. Flipping through his pages, Ianto quickly shut them and gathered his thoughts. "We know they have a transporter. We know they can control children. And we know they live in a special atmosphere and can manipulate viruses. We don't have to worry about the first, some sort of block would be good for the second but we're not quite there yet, and at the very least, rebreathers for the third."

"What is it with you and environmental protection?" Jack murmured, thinking back to Ianto's suggestions for exploring the ruined Hub. Ianto quirked an eyebrow.

"It's the suits," he deadpanned.

"Hey, that's my line!" Jack exclaimed, and poked Ianto in the side. The Welshman yelped in surprise, and they both dissolved into giggles, nervous tension having moved from yelling at one another to near hysterical laughter. They were about to confront an aggressive alien capable of destroying life on Earth. Sometimes laughing was better than the alternative.

Taking Ianto's hand as they moved closer toward the heart of London, Jack tried not to cry.

* * *

Ianto called Frobisher again as they neared Thames House. The secretary was irritated and annoyed with their interference, but Jack couldn't care less about John Frobisher, his doubts, and his fears. The man had revealed himself to be a low-level bureaucratic bastard in every way. They did, however, need his authorization to enter Thames House, and with Frobisher's family still being held by Ianto's UNIT handler, the secretary was forced to grant them their audience with the 456, much to his disgruntled reluctance.

They left the car in a nearby car park and strode purposefully into the government building side by side. Jack felt confident yet on edge as they slammed their weapons down on the guards' table.

"Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones," he snapped. "We're Torchwood."

The guards let them pass without question. They took the lift to the thirteenth floor, where the first thing Jack did before he stepped out was pull the fire alarm, setting off the system and evacuating the building.

"Just in case," he murmured to Ianto, who nodded in agreement.

"A good idea, sir," Ianto replied equally as quietly. They did not look at one another. "Especially if you're anticipating things going badly."

"They usually do," Jack pointed out, and Ianto laughed through his nose. He glanced sideways at Jack before they entered the reception room they'd seen on the CCTV at Flat Holm.

"Good luck," Ianto murmured, then turned toward the door. Jack gave him a curious look.

"That's it?" he asked. "No words of wisdom, no warnings to behave?"

"Keep calm and carry on, perhaps?"

Jack stuck out his tongue.

"Consider the warning said," replied Ianto. "And I repeat, good luck."

Jack took a deep breath, and together they entered the room. It was empty of personnel, and the large smoky tank at the far end of the room was still and quiet. Jack felt chills down his back as they walked toward the tank and stopped before it, Ianto standing strong at his side. Before he could speak, however, the alien within the tank thrashed about, its computerized voice echoing from the speakers around the stark room.

"What have you done?"

"We've ensured the safety of the others in the building while we talk," Jack answered.

"We have no issue with them," the 456 intoned. "We have come for the children."

"And we've come to—" Jack started, his anger immediately flaring. Ianto's fingers brushed against his own in warning, and Jack stopped himself in time. "We need to know what you want with them. We need to see the boy."

"He is not harmed," the speaker droned. "He feels no pain."

"We need to see him," Jack repeated. "We must know what you want them for."

"We want ten percent."

"Not how many," Jack snapped. "What do you want with them? Why is he in there with you? Is he keeping you alive?"

The alien did not answer right away, and when it did, it spoke in the same chilling monotone, sending shivers down Jack's spine once more.

"He is our hit."

Jack felt the blood drain from his face. "Your hit?"

"Our hit. The chemicals. They feel good."

"Oh my god," Ianto murmured beside him. Jack couldn't help but glance at him, wide-eyed and numb.

"Can I end it now?" he whispered, the slight edge to his voice bordering on hysteria. Drugs. It was all about  _drugs_. The 456 were nothing more than tripped out drug addicts high on children. Jack had seen a lot of appalling things in his long life, but this was one of the worst. Few things were more horrifying than cruelty perpetrated on children, and to think that this boy had been suffering since 1965 was almost unbearable. Jack was determined that at some point he would kill these aliens, regardless of what Ianto advised. This species did not deserve to live, let alone live off human children as their hit.

To his surprise, Ianto's lip curled, and he nodded in agreement. "We will wipe them out," he replied, his voice barely audible. "Every last one of them." Jack grinned wolfishly and turned back to the vile tank before them.

"We want the boy," he repeated. "We must be sure your hit is not causing him pain and suffering." There was no doubt in his mind, however, that the boy was living through hell.

"He was a gift," the 456 intoned. "He is ours."

"Then let us see him," Ianto said, stepping slightly forward. "Let us examine him."

"You have already seen him," the alien replied. "He is unharmed. The ten percent will be unharmed."

Jack was fairly certain that Ianto swore under his breath before replying. "We cannot gift so many without assurance of their safety. Our people will not willingly give up their young without knowing their fate."

There was silence, then the foul creature within the tank began thrashing, tentacles slamming against the glass, green slime coating the window. Ianto stepped back to Jack's side, his eyes wide with horror.

"You may see him. You may not touch him."

"Then how are we supposed to examine him?" Jack muttered. Ianto frowned and shook his head.

"We need environmental suits," he said. "But I don't know where they would be."

"And everyone's evacuated," Jack pointed out. "We don't have time to call and ask someone."

"Oh, I'm here," said a voice from a nearby doorway. "I'm not about to run out on my pet project all because of a false alarm."

A short, shrewd looking man with grey hair stepped forward, head cocked as he eyed Ianto with malicious curiosity. "Hello, Mr. Howell. Fancy meeting you back here. I thought you'd skipped out on us, run back to UNIT with your tail between your legs."

He walked toward them, and Ianto tensed, clearly uneasy with the man. "Only you didn't run back to UNIT, you ran back to Torchwood. Isn't that right, Mr. Jones?" The man shook his head. "Talk about conflicted loyalties. Who are you working for now? UNIT, Torchwood, Thames House, or maybe Jack Harkness?"

"Shut up, Dekker," Ianto snapped, stepping up to the man's face. "This isn't the time for petty grievances. These aliens intend to take millions of children. And in case you didn't hear them right now, they use them to get high."

"Oh, I heard," said Dekker, gazing at the tank. A brief look of disgust crossed his face before he turned back to Jack and Ianto. "I've been waiting for years for them to return. But I have no kids, no family at all. They want what they want, what we gave them last time. It's our own fault—just rewards and all that."

"We're going in," said Jack, placing a calming hand on Ianto's shoulder before the Welshman could lay out the other man. "We need environmental suits, and we need you to monitor us."

Dekker shrugged. "You can't possibly believe what they said, that he's safe and unharmed." He paused. "And I think you of all people know it's no good thing to live forever."

Ianto strained against Jack's hold, and Dekker laughed.

"Come on, let's get you suited up. Everyone needs more alien slime in their life."

They followed Dekker from the room, moving to a smaller room across the hall where several blue suits were laid across a conference table. He helped them gear up and led them back to the tank. Together they stood before the glass door, waiting to go in, uncertain what to expect, as Dekker made the necessary preparations and started the monitoring systems.

"I want him out of there," Jack murmured to Ianto, who closed his eyes and nodded.

"I know," he said. "I do too. It's inhumane to leave him behind."

"Do we take him and run?" Jack suggested, for once unsure how to proceed.

"And get shot in the back?" Ianto parried back

"We don't know they have weapons in there, but good point." Jack paused and shook his head. "We can't abandon him. We'll have to kill it to get him out."

Ianto was silent for a long moment. "Are you prepared to accept retaliation?" he asked quietly. Jack shook his head.

"No, but I'm not prepared to leave that boy to suffer and die. And I won't let them take any more."

"Then do what you have to do," Ianto replied. Jack had always hated that response because he valued Ianto's opinion and support, and when Ianto did not offer it, Jack assumed it was in disagreement with his own. This time, however, he was proved wrong when Ianto reached out to squeeze his gloved hand. "And if you don't, then I will."

"Be prepared to take the boy and run," Jack murmured. "Get out of there, it could get violent. And like you said, I'll come back, but you won't."

Jack couldn't see the expression on Ianto's face, but he imagined it was dark; Ianto had always hated it when Jack had sacrificed himself. Yet there was no choice. They needed to rescue the boy, and then they needed to stand up to these creatures, and if that meant Jack died, then he was more than willing to pay such a small price for atonement.

He led the way into the tank, waiting for the airlock to close behind them before continuing into the hazy, poisonous atmosphere that sustained the 456. As he neared the alien, it reared its three heads, and Jack stepped back, his breath coming in short gasps as he gazed at the creature before him. It was like something out of a nightmare, made even worse when he saw the boy beside it, strapped in and breathing through a face mask, eyes wide and filled with unfathomable grief. This was a child with no hope, no fear, nothing. Jack wanted to retch.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, speaking into the gaseous air through the microphone in his helmet. "Can you understand me?"

The boy did not respond, but continued to stare at them, his eyes slightly wider, almost fearful. Ianto stepped forward, gently pulling Jack behind him. "Hello," he said. "My name is Ianto. Can you hear me?"

This time the boy nodded slightly, as if the movement were foreign to him. Jack let Ianto continue to take the lead.

"Which means you can understand me, accent and all," he said. Ianto Jones, making a light-hearted joke with a ten-year old trapped in an alien tank. God, Jack loved the man.

"We're here to see how you're doing. Can you answer some yes or no questions for me?"

Again the boy nodded, his eyes never leaving Ianto's face. The 456 was still, though Jack could feel the tension rolling off it in waves. They were definitely playing with fire, and he was well aware that the situation could spiral rapidly out of control.

"Are you in any pain?" Ianto asked, and Jack inhaled sharply when the boy nodded. His eyes welled up and tears fell down his face, dampening the black mask he wore. Jack felt his throat constrict with sympathy as well.

"We'll try to help with that if we can," Ianto murmured. "Do you remember what happened to you?" Another nod. "And do you remember everything since that night?" Again, the boy nodded. Jack wanted to scream. This child remembered everything he'd been through for the last 45 years. He was in pain. It was beyond appalling, and Jack wanted nothing more than to get him out of there right then, no more questions, no more answers. Action.

"Be ready," Jack said as quietly as he could. The 456 shifted, as if sensing the change in body language and tone. Jack pulled out his Webley and pointed it at one head as Ianto moved closer to the boy.

"You lied," Jack said, though he wasn't sure the alien could understand them there, in the tank with it. "You said he feels no pain, but he does. He's aware of everything. So we're taking him back."

"He was a gift," the 456 intoned, Jack hearing the translation from the speakers outside the tank.

"He needs medical attention," Jack replied. "We're taking him back."

"No." The alien began to thrash about, green slime slamming against the walls.

Jack shot one head, then another. "Now, Ianto!" he yelled. Ianto reached for the boy, covering his mouth with the mask and yanking him from whatever equipment he was connected to. As the boy fell into his arms, Ianto stumbled and ran for the door. He narrowly avoided a flailing tentacle, but did not avoid the green slime before escaping to safety.

"This ends now!" Jack yelled, and he shot the third head. The 456 kept moving, still screeching, still vomiting the hideous green slime. Jack had been scared many times in his life, but this creature and the pure evilness of it scared him more than almost anything else. He stumbled backward, trying to avoid the flailing head, covered in red blood and green slime. It slammed into him, and something sharp ripped through his suit and into his stomach, before throwing him hard against the glass headfirst. Jack could feel the poisonous air seeping into his ruined suit and knew he had little chance of surviving unharmed.

Holding his breath, he stood on shaky legs, his vision blurry. He let loose the rest of his bullets, firing even after the alien stopped moving and fell to the ground. Struggling toward the airlock, Jack saw black spots before him; the poisonous atmosphere was killing him along with the gash in his belly. He placed one foot in front of the other, forcing himself to get out, but he collapsed before he could reach the airlock. He tried to crawl, but it was useless; his gut was bleeding profusely, he was probably concussed, and his lungs were filling with poison. He fell to the floor, hoping that Ianto had got the boy out and trusting he would be back for Jack.

Jack felt the air around him begin to tingle. He wondered if Ianto had returned, until the tank began to grow warmer as well, and he realized that the column of fire the 456 had used to transport into Thames House was about the take the 456 back. A wave of terror hit him, that he would be transported with the alien, taken back to their ship and held prisoner, if not worse. He had to move, he had to get out, but his stomach was on fire and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move…

The heat was almost unbearable. Jack held back a sob as he pulled himself forward inch by inch. Where was Ianto? Hell, where was Dekker? They couldn't leave him there, let him be taken by these creatures. Jack was trying to save the planet, to save the children. He had Ianto back and they were going to survive and win and be together…

A strong pair of arms grabbed him and hauled him toward the airlock. They stumbled through the door and onto the hideous red and black floor of the tank room, where someone ripped off Jack's helmet and tossed it aside, allowing Jack to gasp in fresh air. Jack forced his eyes open and registered three things: the boy from the tank was lying next to Jack, unmoving; Dekker was also lying nearby; and Ianto was leaning over Jack, his helmet reflecting the column of fire that engulfed the tank, shooting up through the ceiling and leaving nothing behind.

The 456 was gone.

"The boy?" Jack croaked. He was weak and could barely breathe; he wanted to turn his head and see the boy, but he didn't have the energy. Instead he concentrated on breathing in and breathing out, trying to ignore the pain in his belly where his suit had ripped open.

"He didn't make it," Ianto whispered, his voice catching at the end. "He was too weak."

"He's in a better place," Jack murmured.

Ianto nodded. "He thanked me, at the end. Before I went back for you. I had to—" He let his head fall, as if torn between saving Jack and saving the boy.

"Thank you," said Jack, reaching up to touch Ianto's helmet, only to let his arm fall because he could not hold it up. There was blood everywhere.

Ianto shook his head, denying Jack's gratitude as he took Jack's hand. "I had to get you out. Dekker tried to stop me."

Jack let his eyes slip closed, knowing the end was near. Ianto must have misread the situation and took Jack's hand.

"He's alive. I didn't kill him," he whispered.

Jack smiled, though he did not open his eyes. "I know. I didn't think you did." Barely finishing the last sentence, he was suddenly overcome with a coughing fit so intense that Ianto turned him on his side when he began to retch. Blood and bile coated the floor next to him.

"Oh god," said Ianto, holding him close. "You're not going to make it either."

"I'll come back," Jack coughed. "I always do."

"They'll be after us, you know," Ianto said. "Frobisher, the 456, everyone. Don't take too long."

Jack's eyes flipped open in surprise, only to find Ianto forcing a small smile, though tears were running down his face. "It's not like I have any control over it," Jack said.

"I know," Ianto murmured. "I'll wait."

"No, get out before they come for us."

"I'm not leaving you here," Ianto snapped.

"Ianto, I—"

They were interrupted when entire room began to shake and a second column of fire appeared in the tank. When it ended, the glass walls were once again obscured by fog, and an eerie voice could be heard from the speakers.

"Action has been taken."

"Shit," murmured Ianto.

"The remnant will be disconnected."

Jack retched again as the 456 shrieked hideously. Beside them Dekker swore as he stood on shaky legs and hurried toward his computer setup, keys clicking furiously as he searched for information.

"What have they done?" demanded Ianto. Jack wasn't sure he wanted to know. He just wanted it to end. "Tell us!" shouted Ianto.

"I don't know," Dekker replied, voice level, as if he were reporting on the weather and not the possible deaths of hundreds of people. "Nothing's coming through the wires yet." He glanced up, the smirk on his face visible through the helmet he was still wearing. "It'll be ugly, though, no doubt."

"Oh my god," Ianto whispered again. Jack grabbed Ianto's shoulder.

"It's all my fault," he gasped.

"No, it's not," said Ianto. "We don't even know what they've done."

"Get out," Jack whispered. "Please, go before they come for you."

"You will die," the 456 spoke, and though Jack knew it was speaking directly to him, he wondered if there would be others. "And tomorrow your people will hand over the children."

"Like hell we will," murmured Ianto. He opened his helmet, leaned down, and kissed Jack on the lips. The last thing Jack saw before he succumbed to death was the look of grim determination on Ianto's face. But the last thing he heard was the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, and as he gave in to the darkness, he prayed that he would not come back to life only to find Ianto dead beside him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes. Just wait. I love writing cliffhangers.  
> Thank you to Taamar for her incredible patience and advice! Please let us know what you think of this alternate take on Jack and Ianto storming Thames House!


	14. Day Four - Ianto

Day Four - Ianto

"You will die," said the 456, "and tomorrow your people will hand over the children."

"Like hell we will," murmured Ianto. He took off his helmet, leaned down, and kissed Jack on the lips, then watched as Jack's slipped closed and death claimed him. Ianto had always hated this part: watching Jack die, waiting for him to come back. It wasn't normal and never would be. He'd always been terrified that Jack wouldn't revive, that one day death would be final for Jack and he would not awake. Jack's cavalier attitude had done nothing to quell that fear, and even after so many months away, Ianto felt it keenly in his heart, the overwhelming fear that Jack might be lost to him forever.

Which was ridiculous considering Ianto had been the one to leave, but still. Sometimes things didn't make sense, and Ianto had accepted long ago that his entire life was one of those things.

He knew Jack was right, that they needed to get out of Thames House. Someone would be coming for them, and not to congratulate them for a job well done. No, they had gone into the 456's tank, killed the alien, and unintentionally killed the boy by trying to rescue him. The 456 had promised retaliation of some sort, for which he and Jack would certainly be blamed. They would probably be thrown into prison, if not killed outright. Which, for Jack, meant the very real possibility of being encased in concrete instead.

Behind him, Ianto heard Dekker moving, and he turned to find the man taking out his mobile phone. Instinct took over, and Ianto pulled out his gun.

"Drop it," he snarled. Dekker raised an eyebrow, smirked, and continued dialing.

So Ianto shot him in the shoulder.

Dekker fell to the ground screaming, the phone dropping to the floor. Ianto shot it for good measure, recognizing the need to let out some aggression. He dragged Dekker toward the wall, propped him up, and wrapped the man's tie around the wound before binding his hands behind him with an electrical cord he yanked out of the wall. Dekker groaned, glaring at Ianto with deep hatred.

"You can't stop them," he wheezed. "There's nothing you can do except get more people killed."

"You're wrong!" Ianto snapped. "We're going to stop this, and in order to do so, we need to be free. So we're leaving now, before anyone tries to stop us."

"You won't get far!" Dekker called as Ianto went back to Jack. He hadn't revived yet, but Ianto wasn't expecting it to be quick. Jack had already died twice over a short period of time, and this one involved both a traumatic injury and systemic poison.

"We have our ways," Ianto replied. He picked up Jack, wrapping the man's arm around his shoulder so he could drag him out. "In the meantime, take care of that shoulder. And maybe instead of enabling these bastards even more, you can think of a way to fight back while you wait for help."

"They'll have seen everything on the cameras. You'll be shot on sight," Dekker said, shaking his head. "You can't possibly win."

"Torchwood doesn't lose," Ianto replied coldly. He started from the room, Jack's dead weight slowing him down. He didn't need to get far, just away from Dekker and the 456.

"Tell that to Torchwood One!" Dekker shouted as Ianto left the room. It took all his will power not to turn around and shoot the bastard again in the other shoulder. Instead, Ianto moved toward the lift and pressed the button for the basement. As the lift descended, he rummaged in his pocket for the small perception filter he'd used several times already. If anyone had made it back into the building yet, the filter should protect him and Jack from immediately being seen.

To Ianto's relief, no one attempted to use the lift, and the doors opened safely on the basement level. Ianto found the nearest door, dragged Jack inside, and waited. They were safe for the moment, but Ianto knew he needed Jack alive to escape Thames House unseen. It was simply too much for Ianto to drag Jack's body out of the building and hope the filter protected them. He was already feeling the fatigue from holding Jack for so long.

He did not have long to wait, as Jack inhaled sharply a few moments later, his eyes flashing open in panic. Ianto wrapped strong arms around him, murmuring reassuring words as Jack struggled to reorient himself in those first few moments after resurrection. It had always been difficult, and Ianto had made it a point to be there for Jack as much as he could. He was glad he could be there now, and wondered if anyone else had sat with Jack as he'd revived during the long months Ianto had been gone.

"Thank you," Jack whispered softly, and Ianto kissed his temple, unable to resist the comforting gesture. Jack grabbed his hand and squeezed tight, and they shared a look Ianto knew they would have to talk about later. Fortunately, Jack stayed focused on the situation at hand.

"Where are we?" he asked quietly, sitting up and glancing around what was apparently a dark broom closet.

"We're in the basement of Thames House," Ianto started, then stopped as Jack turned toward him and grabbed his face for a passionate kiss.

"What was that for?" he asked when Jack pulled away, gazing at Ianto with an odd look of wonder and relief.

"I heard a gunshot," Jack said. "I thought you'd be dead when I woke up. I don't think I could wake up and find you next to me…like that."

Ianto felt himself choke up and had to glance away before he replied, hoping his voice was steady.

"I shot Dekker," he whispered. "In the shoulder."

"He seemed like an annoying prick," Jack offered.

"He was about to turn us in," Ianto said with a sigh. "I had to stop him. It seemed like the best way at the time."

"He'll recover, I'm sure," said Jack. "Bastards like him usually do. It's the innocent ones who suffer. So what's the plan?"

"I didn't think I could walk out of here with your dead body over my shoulders," Ianto replied, trying to sound light and earning an eye roll from Jack. "So now that you're up and about, we should be able to walk out with the perception filter."

"Brilliant," said Jack, standing and helping Ianto up as well. "That thing has really come in handy."

"You have no idea," Ianto murmured. Jack was looking at him in that funny way again, almost making Ianto's stomach do a flip-flop.

"I know you're amazing and you'd find a way out without it," Jack said. He brushed his thumb along Ianto's face. "God, I missed you. I—"

"Still not the time, Jack," Ianto stopped him. It really wasn't the time to talk about  _them,_ not when they were trapped in the basement of Thames House and still needed a way to stop the 456. Maybe if Ianto was lucky there wouldn't be a chance for them to talk at all before they both went back to their old lives. Because that was what Ianto was going to do: go back to UNIT, to traveling the world and working undercover, and most definitely not falling in love with Jack Harkness again.

As if he'd ever stopped.

"Right," said Jack, nodding brusquely. Then he grinned, stole another breathtaking kiss, and opened the door. "Ready?"

"Ready," said Ianto. "Only…we'll have to hold hands, so the filter protects us both."

"Aww," said Jack, grasping Ianto's hand in his own and leading the way from the broom closet.

"Don't get used to it," Ianto muttered, earning a look of disappointment from Jack that he wasn't sure was completely fake. "I mean, I don't usually hold hands on the job."

Jack grinned and winked. "There's a joke in there somewhere."

"Then leave it there," Ianto replied. "All right, up until a few days ago, I was working here. I think I can get us out safely. Follow me."

He moved in front of Jack, still grasping his hand, and led them upstairs. They came out in a side corridor, but they could hear people starting to stream back in through the main doors. There were shouted orders about capturing them alive and making them pay for their arrogance. Swallowing thickly, Ianto took them in the other direction.

They ran into one small search party. As soon as Ianto heard them, he pressed Jack against the wall and covered them both, silently praying for the perception filter to hide them well enough that the UNIT solders would walk right by. He felt Jack's hand beginning to roam as they waited, but no one stopped as the soldiers continued their patrol. Ianto slapped the hand away and kept walking.

They made it outside to find the street covered with emergency vehicles and UNIT personnel. Steering clear of the crowd and still holding tight to the filter, Ianto led Jack away from Thames House, walking so quickly they were almost running. He expected to be gunned down from behind at any moment, but after several blocks, Ianto began to think it had worked. They had actually escaped. Again.

"Where now?" Jack asked, glancing behind them as well. Ianto bit back a yawn and rolled his shoulders. He felt tense, sore, and even slightly winded. It had been a difficult few days, after all, between being shot and escaping and rescuing Jack and escaping some more. He was in the best shape of his life, but apparently the sleep deprivation, emotional upheaval, and lack of caffeine was getting to him. He'd need to get into even better shape when it was all over so he could handle these types of emergencies better.

"While I'd love to stop at Starbucks and refuel, we need to lie low. I know a place."

"Sounds good," said Jack. "We need to call the others, too."

"I'd suggest we wait until we get there. The perception filter is not without its flaws."

Jack nodded in understanding and followed Ianto. They walked several more blocks before Ianto put away the filter. He moved toward the street, Jack watching curiously when Ianto stuck out his hand for a cab.

"It's too far to walk," he explained as he motioned Jack into the car and gave the driver an address several blocks from The Starry Night.

Jack frowned, glancing out the window. "What if they manage to find and track us?" he asked.

"Calculated risk," Ianto replied, leaning back against the seat with his eyes closed. Why was he feeling so drained? "It's our best option, and we risk being discovered on the walk or the ride. This way we get to take a breather."

Jack was silent for a moment. Ianto opened one eye to glance at him.

"Are you all right?" asked Jack.

"Tired," Ianto replied, though in truth it felt like more than that. "Disappointed. Worried." He paused. "Guilty." When Jack gave him a curious glance, Ianto sighed. "We cocked it up, Jack. We stormed in there with barely a working plan, completely forgetting that we were dealing with unpredictable aliens and not humans. You died, the boy died, we barely escaped, and who knows what the 456 has done in return. Honestly, I'm scared." He hated admitting it, but he was too tired to filter it at the moment.

Jack leaned closer and took Ianto's hand, squeezing tight and then taking hold of it with his other hand and pulling it toward him. "Me too," he whispered. "But we've faced worse. I don't think this is the end of the world, if that helps."

"Know that for sure?" Ianto asked with half a smile, and Jack grinned back.

"Pretty sure. No, I think the end of the world involves more fire and brimstone than three-headed aliens trolling the galaxy for recreational drugs."

Ianto couldn't help but laugh, and Jack joined him, both of them shaking with that same slightly hysterical laughter they'd shared in the car on the drive to London.

"We shouldn't be laughing, it's so awful…" He trailed off with a deep breath, the unexpected laughter leaving him even more fatigued and upset. "What are we going to do?"

"Regroup," Jack said. "Lay low, like you said. Get some sleep to start with." He ran a finger along Ianto's cheek. "You really look beat."

"I am," said Ianto, rolling his eyes and letting them fall closed again. "I don't have your regenerative powers. We mortals need food and rest."

"Can we get both where we're going?" Jack asked, and Ianto nodded.

"Yes, we can. We'll be safe."

"Then we eat and we sleep, we call the others, and maybe you can get in touch with Bryan. In some order."

"Another bollocks plan," murmured Ianto, and Jack laughed softly, pulling Ianto up against his shoulder.

"It's how we roll," he said. "Go ahead and rest. I'll let you know when we're there."

"We'll be there in ten minutes, Jack," Ianto pointed out, smiling to himself.

"Then that's ten minutes of sleep you've already had," Jack replied. "We can put those ten minutes to other uses."

Ianto glanced up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Can't imagine what," he replied, drawing out his accent as much as possible. Jack smirked, deliberately adjusting his trousers at the same time.

"I have plenty of ideas. Ten minutes isn't nearly enough, but we can still—"

"Jack," Ianto replied, abruptly sitting up and moving away. "We really shouldn't."

"Why not?" asked Jack. "We almost did, only we keep getting interrupted. Maybe the third time's the charm."

"We're in the middle of a planetary crisis, you know." Ianto sat back, wide awake now as he waited for one of Jack's many responses.

"And I'm sure there are millions, if not billions of people around the world having sex to cope with it right now," Jack said. "The world's always ending, Ianto. And I have missed your suits."

"We're not coping," Ianto laughed in spite of the seriousness of the situation. "We're supposed to deal with it. Fix it. Save the world."

"We will," Jack replied, moving closer, his intentions clear as he brought his hand to Ianto's face and cupped his chin. "But we need to be in top form, at our best to defeat this thing."

"And sex does that?" asked Ianto. "Personally, I need sleep."

"I need you," Jack whispered, and he closed the distance to kiss Ianto once more. Ianto could not remember kissing Jack so much while working when they'd been together in Cardiff, months ago. He wondered what had changed. Had Jack been celibate the entire time? Was he just desperate to get off, then? Was he glad to see Ianto? Had he really missed Ianto that much?

Ianto had known since the moment Jack had kissed him at Aston Down that he'd missed Jack like he'd missed no one else in his life. Yet every time he thought about that kiss, and the ones that had followed, he also thought about the reasons he'd left it all behind, and left Jack behind, to start over. He had a new life now, one he needed to go back to, if he could. If they'd have him.

If they didn't, he wasn't sure what his future held, and that thought scared him almost as much as the thought of staying with Jack.

The cab driver banged on the glass, signaling their arrival. Ianto pulled out some notes, handed them through the window, and followed Jack onto the pavement. He tried not to stumble, but the abrupt transition from sitting to standing left his legs somewhat unsteady, and when Jack took his hand, he did not let go. He told himself he was using it for support, but the truth was, he liked holding hands with Jack. He always had, though it had been rare.

"Which way?" asked Jack, waiting for the cab to drive away. Ianto pulled out the perception filter and started down the street, once again heading toward the river. It was only the matter of a few minutes before they found themselves at the The Starry Night.

It was dark and quiet. Closed.

"Shit," Ianto murmured, standing in front of the door with no idea what to do. Knock? He stared stupidly at the door, wondering if anyone was inside, if they would hear them. Should he call Bryan? Cornelius? What was going on?

"I know this place," Jack said softly beside him. "Been around for decades. What about the back entrance?"

Ianto turned to stare at him, before Jack shook his head fondly and led them around back. Again the door was shut and locked, but this time Jack knocked, apparently determined to get in even though Ianto wasn't sure if it was the safest place for them after all. He reluctantly put away the perception filter.

Georg the barman opened the door, an angry look on his face. "Go away, this is private—"

The light fell on Jack's face, and Georg growled. "You!" he snarled. He reached out and grabbed Jack by the collar of his coat, yanking him off the ground with one shift move. "You actually dare to show your face around here? After what you did?"

Jack gasped something unintelligible. Ianto stepped forward, letting Georg see him and offering the password. Georg glanced at him in surprise. "What are you doing back here with the likes of him?"

"Trying to save the world," Ianto drawled. "But we're tired and hungry and could use a break before we try again. Is Cornelius here?"

Georg glanced back at Jack, as if considering what to do with him. After a long moment or two, in which Jack's face turned a deep shade of red, Georg finally released him, and Jack fell to the ground, panting. "Follow me. He's been worried about you."

Georg let them in, but instead of leading them to the back parlor Ianto had been in last time, he took them both directly to Cornelius's rooms upstairs. The alien was standing by the window, talking curtly on his mobile phone, and turned with a look of surprise when they entered.

"He is here. All right. Be careful." Cornelius flipped his phone closed and hurried toward Ianto, pulling him into an embrace that surprised Ianto almost as much as anything else that had happened that day. Cornelius did not like touching others; to embrace Ianto meant he was extremely agitated.

"I am glad you are safe. You are all over the news, you know," Cornelius said, stepping away.

Ianto groaned as Cornelius turned toward Jack and held out his hand. "You must be Jack Harkness. I have heard a lot about you."

"None of it good, I hope," Jack replied, though with half his usual charm.

Cornelius cocked his head as if recalling what he'd heard. "Not particularly, no. But then he shows up and insists on helping you. So you must be more than the stories."

Ianto held back a grin. Jack looked slightly chastened, but Cornelius's eyes were sparkling behind his spectacles, so Ianto knew he was getting one up on Jack.

"Cornelius," Ianto warned with a smile, and the alien shrugged. He stepped back and motioned them to the sofa, then whispered directions to Georg, who left the room without another word. Ianto fell onto the sofa and closed his eyes once more. He could feel the other two men watching him with concern.

"I'm fine," he said without opening his eyes. "Cornelius, what have we missed?"

"You are fugitives, obviously," he said. "You have managed to anger a large number of people in a short amount of time."

Ianto opened his eyes and sighed. Cornelius shrugged again. "But then, from what I have heard, Captain Harkness has a knack for that."

Oh, Ianto loved how his friend was keeping Jack off point, it was brilliant. Jack flopped down on the sofa with half a pout, and Ianto grinned. "It might be a Torchwood thing," he offered, patting Jack's knee in sympathy. "But we did have a plan, of sorts."

"The plan didn't go to plan," Jack offered.

"I gathered," Cornelius replied dryly. "How is your shoulder?" he asked Ianto, and Ianto shrugged, focusing on the pain he'd been working through for so long.

"Stiff, sore. I'm sure it'll be like that until I get at least a week off from this madness."

"Does UNIT give vacation days?" Cornelius asked quite seriously.

"I doubt it," Ianto replied. "Though if you put in a good word with Bryan it might help."

"Bryan is extremely upset, Mr. Cole." Jack twitched at the use of one of Ianto's other names and glanced at him in confusion

"My alias, remember? It's how we met." Ianto murmured, and Jack nodded. Ianto decided to come clean right then and there. "Cornelius, Broderick Cole is not my real name—"

"Obviously," the alien interrupted, eyebrows raised. "I am aware that what you do requires discretion. You need not tell me any more."

"I want to," Ianto started, but Cornelius held up his hand.

"You put yourself at risk if you do."

"Everyone knows anyway," Ianto grumbled, and Jack chuckled next to him.

"You have gone through several names, haven't you?" he teased lightly, and Ianto smiled. He went ahead anyway.

"My name is—"

"Ianto Gethin Jones, I know," Cornelius said softly. "You worked for Torchwood. You were at Canary Wharf. You returned to Torchwood Cardiff before leaving abruptly and reappearing at UNIT two months later."

Ianto stared at him. "How did you know all that?"

Cornelius winked, the quick motion almost missed behind his spectacles. "Lucky guess. Now, tell me what has happened since you left. No wait, have something to eat first. We should wait until Bryan gets here."

Ianto sat bolt upright. "What? Bryan's coming here? He can't, it's not safe for us to be in direct contact. We need him at UNIT, he's our only resource right now—"

Cornelius motioned at someone in the doorway, and Georg came in, carrying a large plate of sandwiches, chips, and fruit. And a pot of coffee.

"He is coming and we will work together to figure this out." Cornelius dismissed Georg and offered Jack a cup of coffee. "Something a bit stronger to go with it, as well?"

"Please," Jack said, grabbing a sandwich and inhaling half of it. Ianto was torn between gaping at Cornelius's revelation and watching Jack make a culinary mess. He settled for the former.

"You shouldn't be involved," he whispered. "I shouldn't have come back." He couldn't believe he hadn't thought it through. He'd been hoping that Cornelius could give them a place to stay, somewhere to eat and sleep and clean up before setting out again. He hadn't intended for Cornelius to get involved, though he could see now that of course the alien would want to help, particularly as things were getting worse.

"Then you should not have come here for help," Cornelius answered. He produced a bottle of brandy from a small wet bar in the back of the room and offered them a shot for their coffee, which they both gladly accepted. "Now. Eat. Drink. And when Bryan arrives we shall hear your story and figure out what to do."

He held out another mug for Ianto, who took it slowly, still trying to process the development. On the one hand, he had allies, but on the other, they would be in terrible danger if they continued to help him. A part of Ianto wanted to eat, sleep, and start fresh in the morning; another part—the part that often seemed to win—wanted to run, to protect himself and his friends. He should leave. He and Jack could go back to Cardiff, regroup there, then—

Then what? Ianto didn't have any idea, and he was too fuzzy headed with fatigue to think straight. He took the coffee and picked up a sandwich and sat back, still feeling slightly off kilter.

They'd faced down and killed the three-headed alien threatening Earth's children, but all Ianto could think about was his handler. Bryan was on his way to The Starry Night, which meant Jack would meet Ianto's handler. Ianto wasn't sure he wanted to witness that meeting, knowing both men and their strong personalities reasonably well. The potential for disaster in that interaction loomed over even the three-headed alien at that moment. Jack leaned over, laying a hand on his knee, and whispered in his ear.

"It's almost like meeting your father," he said, his grin so broad Ianto wanted to wipe it from his face. He groaned and shook his head, but it was Cornelius who replied.

"You should be on your best behavior then, Captain." He punctuated his words with a very direct look at Jack. "Mr. Wells is very protective of his people, and Ianto is one of his best."

"I know," said Jack, slipping an arm around Ianto, who groaned again. He stood and started pacing, dreading the meeting even more. He grabbed some chips and sipped at his coffee, too agitated to sit down. Jack and Cornelius started talking, and Ianto half listened to their conversation about aliens in London, many of whom were mutual acquaintances. Of course. Only Jack.

It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and Georg came in, a shorter, stocky man following behind. The newcomer was dressed in black trousers and a jumper with a short overcoat, an earpiece tucked discreetly into his ear. He ignored Jack and Ianto and walked straight to Cornelius, clasping his hand warmly. Jack came to stand next to Ianto, watching curiously.

And then Bryan turned to Jack and caught him with a powerful right hook that sent Jack staggering backward. Which was when Ianto knew it was far worse than Jack meeting Ianto's father.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so they walk out of Thames House, together and alive. Yes! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the final paragraph. It was one of those things that literally happened as I was writing it and surprised me to no end. Until it appeared on the screen, I really had no idea Ianto's handler had it in for Jack like that. And then I thought—of course he does! It was fun. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  


	15. Day Four - Jack Again

Day Four - Jack Again

Jack was studying Bryan Wells so intently he never saw it coming. One moment he was standing beside Ianto, sensing the Welshman's strange tension as his handler entered the room; the next moment Jack was on his arse, hand to his jaw as pain, indignation, and embarrassment made him swear profusely.

To his relief, Ianto did not laugh, but helped him to his feet and glared at Wells. "What the hell was that for?" Ianto demanded.

Jack nodded, flexing his jaw a few times; there would definitely be a bruise, and those always lasted much longer than a gunshot wound. "Good question. Here I was thinking a handshake was the socially acceptable way to greet most people."

"You're not most people," Wells growled, his voice thick with anger and derision. Jack wasn't sure what he'd done to offend the other man and found himself growing defensive.

"I'm not sure that means I deserve a fist to the face," he retorted. Ianto was staring at his handler, his face a mix of confusion and anger. For a moment Jack wondered if Ianto would take his handler's side; he'd sensed they were close, which was not unusual for that sort of professional relationship. Yet he was once again glad when Ianto shook his head and agreed with Jack.

"No, it doesn't, and I know you," he said, a small smile quirking at his lips as he gazed at Jack. Then he turned toward the barman, and the moment was lost. "Can you get us some ice, please?" he asked.

The barman raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Let him swell up," he said.

"Georg!" snapped Cornelius. "Ice, please. And quickly."

The barman grumbled as he left. Jack watched Bryan Wells, taking the measure of Ianto's mysterious handler. On first impression, Jack suspected the man was easily underestimated by most people. Shorter than both he and Ianto, Wells was deceptively normal-looking, apparently hiding both strength of arm and anger behind the plain but expensive jumper he wore over a shirt and tie. He had dark brown hair going gray at the temples, piercing green eyes, and a determined set to his face that told Jack this was a man who knew what he was doing and could do it extremely well.

From the way Wells greeted Ianto—first with a tentative handshake, obviously sensing Ianto's frustration, and then with a warm embrace when the handshake was reluctantly accepted—Jack could see that Bryan Wells was also a man who took care of his people and cared deeply. Jack wanted to like him; until the moment he'd felt the man's fist hit his face, he had. It was obvious, however, that Wells did not like him, and instead of turning up the charm and doing his damnedest to make the man truly hate him with a barrage of vulgar comments and gross flirting, Jack felt vulnerable, almost unworthy. It was not a feeling he enjoyed, and he found himself sinking back into the couch, fingers massaging his jaw as he let his mind wander. What had he done to offend the UNIT handler so deeply?

Georg came back in and tossed a small bag of ice at Jack. He caught it one-handed and smirked. Remembering exactly what he'd done to piss off the barman, he hoped Ianto didn't ask about it. Though it had been years and years ago, before Jack had taken over Torchwood Three, the last thing he wanted was any sort of discomfort between them. Especially when Ianto immediately sat down beside him, checking his injury and offering to hold the ice for Jack. Jack smiled gratefully, relieved beyond measure that in spite of whatever his handler thought, Ianto still cared.

"I'm fine," Jack murmured. "But thank you."

"I'm sorry," Ianto whispered, placing his hand on Jack's knee.

"It's not your fault."

"I should have warned you," Ianto replied, lowering his voice. Wells was talking with Cornelius, though it was obvious the older man was watching them.

"What, that your boss hated me?" Jack suggested dryly. Ianto looked stricken, but Wells sat down in a chair across from them. Cornelius found some glasses and poured them all a drink before sitting down as well.

"I don't hate you," said Wells, quirking an eyebrow. "I just don't like you. A lot."

"You don't know me," said Jack, wincing as he tried stretching out his jaw, only to find it was quite sore. He took a deep sip from his tumbler, pleased to find it was strong whisky.

"I'm UNIT, Captain," Wells replied dryly, his tone eerily similar to the one Jack had heard from Ianto so many times. He wondered if Wells had come by it on his own or picked it up from Ianto in their short time working together. "I don't need to know you. I've heard the stories and read the reports."

"Stories can be just that…stories," Jack pointed out.

"Not when they come from primary sources," Wells replied, and Jack felt his breath catch in his chest at the implication. He turned toward Ianto, who looked furious.

"Stop it," he hissed at both of them. "This isn't a pissing contest. Jack, I didn't say anything like that, he's winding you up. Bryan, stop goading him, you know me…about my…and I thought you trusted me."

"I do," Wells started, but Ianto stopped him from continuing.

"Then get over whatever this is. I don't know where it came from or why it's rearing its ugly head now, but we're in the middle of a global crisis here and I need your help." The last few words were uneven, colored by emotion as Ianto sank his elbows to his knees and let his head fall between with a sigh. Jack was reminded of a wayward son standing up to his father and idly wondered what Ianto had been like as a teenager. There was an uncomfortable silence all around.

"You're right," Wells said quietly, nodding at Ianto and turning to Jack. "And I'm sorry. I'm not here to take out my personal feelings on you. I'm here to help Ianto however I can. Can you tell me what went down at Thames House?"

Jack sat back while Ianto told Cornelius and Wells what had happened since they'd left Flat Holm. He bit back the impulse to add any commentary, knowing without a doubt that while Ianto might roll his eyes at his colorful additions, Wells might hit him again. Instead, he listened with a sense of growing pride as Ianto detailed the events at Thames House. He couldn't pinpoint the reason, given their dismal failure; perhaps it was seeing the competent way Ianto handled himself, perhaps it was simply watching Ianto stay focused while Jack felt more and more hopeless with each new setback.

When it was over, Ianto slumped back against the sofa, obviously tired. This time Jack reached out in concern, laying his hand on Ianto's knee; he was surprised when Ianto took it and held tight.

"You all right?" Jack asked.

"You keep asking that," Ianto replied.

"You keep looking exhausted," Jack pointed out.

"Been a long week," Ianto murmured.

"How's your shoulder?" Wells interrupted, leaning forward and looking concerned. Ianto shook his head, eyes closed.

"Sore but taken care of," he replied.

"And Thames House? No injuries?"

"Jack died, the alien died, and the boy died," Ianto replied bitterly. "And I shot Dekker. I'm fine, so stop asking." He took a deep breath and sat up. "Now, what do we do next?"

"Have you talked to your people in Cardiff recently?" Wells asked, and Jack shook his head.

"Haven't had a chance yet."

"Check in with them," said Wells, easily issuing orders. Jack tried not to bristle. "See if they've found anything new. Once we know everything, we can plan our next move."

Jack glanced at Ianto, wanting to trust Wells but needing confirmation. Ianto nodded, pulled out his phone, and tossed it in Jack's lap. Jack grinned and patted him on the leg again. "I'll call."

"I'll listen," Ianto murmured. He sounded half asleep.

Wells struck up a quiet conversation with Cornelius while Jack dialed the phone Gwen was using at Flat Holm. It had been hours since he and Ianto had left Cardiff, and he hoped she had better news than he did.

"Ianto?" Gwen answered after the third ring, and Jack chuckled to hear the very obvious signs of sleep in her voice. He half wished he was tucked into bed somewhere too, preferably with Ianto by his side.

"It's me," Jack replied with a grin. "Sorry to wake you, but we needed to check in before we decide what to do next."

"It's fine, Jack," Gwen said, instantly sounding more awake. "I dozed off. Is everything all right?"

"You're not watching the feed?" he asked.

"Of course we are. We saw you go in and saw you come out, but what happened inside? And where are you now?"

Jack laughed bitterly. "Well, it's dead and gone, so now we're in hiding again."

"Oh my god," Gwen replied. "Jack, hang on, I'm going to Martha and Mickey's room and putting you on speaker. They've got some news too, but we didn't want to call at a bad time."

"Right. I'll do the same." He set the phone on the table and nudged Ianto, who sat up straighter to listen, though he sighed heavily and seemed unusually tired and reluctant.

"Jack, are you all right?" came Martha's voice a few moments later. "We've been worried sick since seeing what happened in Thames House."

"Sorry, nightingale," said Jack. "We've been on the run."

"Again?" came Mickey's voice. "Seems to be becoming a habit for us lately. Torchwood, on the run while saving the planet."

Ianto snorted, and Gwen's voice came through the speaker. "Ianto, love? Are you all right? How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine, Gwen. I'm tired, that's all."

"Can you tell us what happened? What happened to the boy?"

"He didn't make it," Jack said heavily. He hated having to say it out loud, even though they'd already seen it on the CCTV. "We got him out, but he was too weak and died almost immediately. At least he's not suffering."

"Why did they have him hooked up in the tank with them?" asked Gwen. "Was it true? He was some sort of chemical high?"

"It's true," Jack replied, his voice bitter. "Apparently they harvest human children for drugs. Not seen that before."

"That's hideous," said Martha quietly.

"You've no idea," said Ianto, speaking up and sounding angry. "The boy knew what was happening to him. He remembered everything, suffered horribly. Jack's right, he's in a better place."

"How did you get him out?" asked Mickey.

"If you know Jack, you won't be surprised to hear he played space cowboy and shot the place up while I grabbed the boy and ran," Ianto replied.

"Hey!" Jack protested while the others laughed. But Ianto smiled, which made it worth it.

"What's going on there? Have you figured out a way to stop them transmitting through the children? I think it would give us an advantage to be able to shut that off."

"Actually, we did have some ideas about the 456 transmissions," said Martha, her voice hesitant. "Or rather, Mickey did."

"Talk to me, Mickey," Jack demanded, arms crossed over his chest.

"Right, well, something killed Clem—"

"Clement MacDonald is dead?" Ianto interrupted sharply. "How? What happened?"

There was silence all around. "I'm sorry," said Gwen, and she sounded gutted. "It happened so quickly. It was while we were watching the live feed. After the second burst of fire, there was this horrible screeching and Clem, he…he…" Gwen stuttered to a stop, and Jack heard Rhys comforting her in the background.

"He started convulsing, then bleeding," said Martha. "And screaming—Jack, it was awful. There was nothing we could do." She sounded as upset as Gwen.

"He died," finished Mickey. "Something killed him, and I'm sure it came from the 456, something to do with their transmission and his connection to them."

"Which I'm hoping to understand better when I do an autopsy," Martha added.

"If you haven't done an autopsy yet, what have you found?" asked Ianto.

"It's not so much what we found as what we're theorizing," said Mickey. "Look, if the 456 transmitted some sort of signal that killed Clem, I think if we reverse it and throw it back, we might be able to use it to destroy them."

"So can you isolate the signal that killed Clem? And reverse it?" asked Jack.

"Yes, and yes," said Mickey. "The problem is transmitting it."

"What do you mean?" asked Jack.

"My guess is their technology is organically based. Hence using the children as transmitters for the creepy 'we are here' messages."

"You can't use children to transmit back to them!" they heard Gwen exclaim over the speaker.

"No, we can't," said Mickey. "Because we'd need a focal point to establish resonance, and that child would die." He paused. "Very painfully. Like Clem, but worse."

"What about an adult? Would that work?" asked Ianto. Glancing at Jack, they shared a look, instinctively knowing the answer.

"No, I suspect there's something about developing brains that's unique to the transmission process, hence the reason they're only using children," said Martha. "But…" She trailed off, obviously uncertain.

"Martha," Jack growled.

"There may be a way," Martha said. "Only it would be just as bad."

"The organic quality of the transmission process reminded me of something," said Mickey. "It finally occurred to me that the Cybermen used transmitters implanted in the brains to communicate—from the collective to the soldiers, and vice versa."

"No," whispered Ianto, understanding immediately. Jack looked at him, wide-eyed as the implications hit him full on.

"UNIT was studying them, Jack," said Martha. "They were looking for ways to improve communication out in the field. I remember reading about it."

"They were playing with cyber tech?" Jack demanded. "That's insane. They know what it's capable of, they've had plenty of their own run-ins with Cybermen over the years. They were lucky the Doctor saved their arses!" He did not look at Bryan Wells and concentrated on the conversation, trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest, that this of all possible solutions was the one presenting itself.

"The thing is, Jack," said Mickey, and he sounded reluctant to speak. "I think if we had one of those transmitters, we could get it to work against the 456. Only it would have to be implanted in order to work." They heard Gwen protest again. "And there's a good chance it could start to take over."

Jack went pale and let his eyes slip closed. "There has to be another option," he whispered.

"I hope so," said Martha. "Because as far as I know, UNIT gave up the project months ago."

They were all silent for a moment. The theory sounded plausible, but without the technology to attempt it, they'd never know. Ianto took a deep breath and spoke.

"They quit the project," he said quietly. "But they didn't destroy the tech. They still have it." Bryan Wells glanced up, his face curiously blank as he watched the situation unfold.

Jack turned to him. "Do you know where?" he demanded, not even asking how Ianto would know such a thing. Ianto nodded.

"It's in the Black Archives."

Jack heard Martha inhale sharply; Gwen, however, asked hesitantly, "What are the Black Archives?"

"Top secret UNIT archive under the Tower of London," said Jack, his eyes never leaving Ianto's face. "I mean top secret as in they don't even exist. Anyone who goes in has their memory wiped at the end of the day, even the scientists who work there."

"Then how do you know it's there, Ianto?" asked Martha. "I was there once and I don't remember a thing about it."

"I was assigned to the archives after the Daleks stole the Earth," Ianto replied wearily. "After the first few times, the memory wipe stopped working."

"They don't know that, do they?" asked Jack, and Ianto shook his head. Wells didn't appear surprised, though his head fell to his chest. After a moment, he took out his PDA and started working on it.

"No, they don't. But they've got cyber tech, Dalek technology, anything you can think of. Quite comparable to the Torchwood Archives, actually."

"So we need to get into the Black Archive and borrow this thing," said Mickey. Jack shook his head even though the others couldn't see him.

"No one breaks into the Black Archive," he said. "If they do, they don't even remember it, let alone walk out with classified artifacts in their pockets."

"I can get you in," Wells said quietly, glancing up at them. Jack glared at him, ignored him, and continued. Wells continued to type away at his PDA, earning a curious look from Ianto.

"Besides, even if we do get this transmitter, what do we do with it exactly?" asked Jack. "You said that it needs to be implanted, but that it could take over. Then what?"

"We stand by with a gun," murmured Ianto, and Jack glared at him now as well.

"Martha?" he asked. "Do you think it would work?"

"I think Mickey's idea is sound. The 456 technology does seem very organic, and if we run it through a satellite or antenna, we'd hardly be yelling at them, more like a fly buzzing an elephant. We need to transmit through organic matter in order for them to understand."

"Which means implanting it," murmured Ianto. Which meant someone was going to have to be converted, at least partially, and both Jack and Ianto knew all too well that there was no coming back. Someone would die.

"I'll do it," said Ianto.

Pandemonium.

Gwen's voice shrieked loudest over the connection, Martha and Mickey arguing with her as Ianto began shouting at them all. Finally Jack grabbed the phone and jumped up. "Quiet!" he yelled. Everyone went silent immediately. Ianto opened his mouth, but Jack held up a hand.

"Don't say a word," he said. Ianto stood and faced him, his jaw set.

"Don't tell me to be quiet," he snapped back. "You know I'm right. It has to be me."

"No, it doesn't!" Jack shouted, and now he was waving his arms, ready to get into it, regardless of whom was listening. "You know what cyber tech can do to a person, Ianto. We both do. We saw it first-hand."

"I saw more than I ever want to see again," Ianto replied coldly. "And I don't want it anywhere near me—"

"Good. Then if we need to implant a transmitter, I'll take it," said Jack. There was a loud exclamation from the other end of the line.

"No, Jack!" said Gwen. "What if it killed you?"

"Then I'd come back," Jack replied slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old child.

"But what if it affected you even after your…reset?" asked Martha. "There's no way of knowing whether the changes the cyber implants create would be permanent." She paused. "As in forever."

Mickey swore. "We don't need immortal Cybermen running around, Jack. I can't imagine anything worse."

"It won't happen," Jack said. Ianto jumped back into the conversation.

"We need you, Jack," he said. "You were there in 1965, you know the situation better than anyone because you're the only one they haven't killed. You have to stop this."

"I will, but—" Jack started, but Ianto interrupted him.

"Martha needs to do the surgery, Mickey needs to run the tech, and Gwen's pregnant, she needs to be a mother. That leaves me."

Gwen protested over the phone. "Jack, don't you let him—"

"I know," Jack growled. "And believe me, I won't." He disconnected the phone and stared at Ianto.

_"I_  need to do this," Ianto said quietly, gazing at him intently. "I'm dispensable."

"No you're not!" Jack exclaimed. "I need you!"

Ianto looked like he wasn't sure whether to punch Jack or kiss him, but instead his hands went into his pockets and he glanced at the floor, shaking his head. "You don't need me, Jack. You need a transmitter. I can do that. I can help stop them."

"No!" Jack growled, stepping closer. "I won't let you."

Ianto's eyes went wide and his face grew red with anger, but before he could respond, Wells stood up and coughed.

"I hate to interrupt your domestic," he said, the sarcasm dripping thick, "but you need a way to get to it first." He held up his PDA. "I can get you in. While you're fetching the tech, perhaps Dr. Jones can find another way use the transmitter without implanting it in a human subject."

Jack and Ianto stared at Wells, Ianto still breathing heavily from their argument. Jack nodded sharply. "Good point." He latched onto the idea, that no one was going to be converted, no one was going to die, especially with cyber tech involved. He couldn't imagine what Ianto was going through at the moment, knowing it might be the only way to save them; cyber tech had destroyed his life twice already. How could Jack let it happen again? The answer was simple: he wouldn't.

"So," he said. "New plan: destroy them with one big blast. We get in, grab the transmitter, and bring it back here so Martha can—"

And again he was interrupted, this time by the door to the flat bursting open behind him. The barman came rushing in with a large assault rifle in his hand **.** Georg handed Cornelius a handgun and magazine clip **,**  then moved to the front windows, glancing carefully out at the street.

"We've been targeted," the barman grimly informed them. "Looks like a special ops team, unknown number of agents converging. They've covered the front, the back, and possibly the roof. Wolf and Black are still downstairs, I suggest we defend from down there."

For a long moment they all stared at Georg as if he had grown a second head, until Wells looked at Cornelius, who nodded, and there was no question of who was in charge.

"Then let's move," said Wells, taking out his Desert Eagle. "He's right, we don't want to be trapped up here."

Everyone quickly followed Wells from the room and down the stairs, but Ianto held Jack back. "You need to get out of here," he said quietly. "You can't be captured again."

"We can't leave," Jack replied. "They need our help, and we need theirs!"

"Jack, I know Johnson. There's very little she won't do to contain you." Ianto looked away. "I hate telling you to run again, but you're the only one who can stop this."

"I'm not leaving without you!" Jack growled, and pulled him close for a short but devastating kiss. "I'm not doing anything without you. Which means we go down there together and finish this once and for all so we can do our damn job."

Ianto stared at him, then pulled his gun from his back holster, checked it, and nodded. "Yes, sir," he murmured. Jack grinned, took out his own weapon, and they hurried downstairs together to find the others spread out across the empty pub, tipping the heavy tables and lying in wait, weapons ready.

"I wish we had something useful from the archives," Jack murmured. "Got any more toys from UNIT hidden in a pocket?"

Ianto shook his head, then moved away as Wells directed him toward the doorway that led to the second parlor and back door. Ianto crouched low, placing himself at an angle to defend both rooms if need be.

"Harkness," Wells hissed, inclining his head. Jack moved toward him, and the man pressed his PDA into Jack's hand.

"This is your ticket into the Black Archives," he said. "But you must swear to me that you won't let Ianto be the one to use the cyber tech if it comes to that."

Jack gazed at him with a new respect. Wells was obviously entrusting him with not only the mission, but Ianto's life. "I never had any intention of letting him do it," he said quietly. "I will knock him out and tie him up before I let him sacrifice himself."

Wells snorted. "Kinky, Captain. Keep him safe. He's got too much potential to let it go to waste."

"I agree."

"Then when this is over, make sure you do right by him," said Wells. "Or I will hunt you down and make you wish you could die."

Jack shook his head, not sure whether to be impressed or worried by the threat. "What did I ever do to you?" he wondered out loud.

"Nothing," Wells replied with a feral grin. "I'm only looking after my agent. I trust him and I believe in him, which is the only reason why I agreed to help you in the first place."

"You always muck about in their lives so much?" asked Jack. They didn't look at one another, keeping their eyes sharply focused on the windows and doors, alert for any sign of attack.

"Ianto's different," said Wells. "He came to me with a lot of baggage, and it was pretty damn heavy. I don't want to see him carrying around even more."

"Ah." And Jack understood. Bryan Wells had nothing against Jack personally so much as he was fiercely protective of Ianto, and that included protecting him from Jack. He wondered how much the UNIT man knew about Ianto's past, or about Jack's relationship with the Welshman. Either way, he couldn't help but admire the man's loyalty and integrity.

"I don't want to hurt him," Jack murmured. "I care about him too much."

"Do you care enough to let him go if you have to?" Wells asked, green eyes bright with intensity.

Jack did not get to answer, as there was a shout from Georg.  **"** Incoming, front entrance. Watch our flank!" Jack could feel the tension increase in the room, as everyone focused, readied their aim, and waited. That focus was almost immediately destroyed, though, when the front door blew in, leaving them all stunned by the bright light and loud sound. Jack shook his head to clear it, and when he glanced up again, the firefight had begun.

Two men in black rushed through the door and leapt for cover, assault rifles held high before them. The seven defenders began firing at once, and one soldier went down almost immediately. The other moved away from the door, and four more figures came through, followed by a slim woman also dressed in black.

The café was an instant warzone. Tables splintered, chairs fell over, and the walls of the café were quickly riddled with bullet holes. Georg crouched behind the bar, trying to take down the enemy as bottles shattered above him and littered the floor with broken glass, while the dark-haired man named Wolf fired from the opposite side of the room. Cornelius took a hit to his leg and collapsed nearby, and the woman named Black pulled him to safety behind an overturned table, putting pressure on the wound with one hand while firing from cover with the other.

Jack glanced around, searching for Ianto, but did not see him near the back hallway. He frowned, hoping Ianto was safe, but at that moment, Bryan Wells went down beside him, blood flowing from a deep wound to his chest. Jack swore, taking out the advancing soldier with a bullet to the head before crouching down next to Wells to try and stop the bleeding.

Wells grabbed Jack's collar, his breathing already ragged. It was a fatal wound, and they both knew it.

"Don't let them win," he gasped. "Not Johnson, and not those bastard aliens."

"I won't," Jack promised. "You have my word."

"And you keep Ianto alive, no matter what you have to do," Wells added.

"I will," Jack replied, his voice catching as he watched Wells struggle with his final breaths. "I can't live without him."

Wells nodded weakly as blood bubbled from his lips. The man's eyes went wide. Jack thought it was from pain, the end near, until Wells lifted his arm with a grunt and pulled the trigger of his weapon, felling the soldier who had been right behind Jack, weapon raised. Jack added another bullet to make sure the man was dead.

"Thanks," murmured Jack, his heart racing. Bryan Wells nodded again. He offered Jack the only smile he'd given all night, and then died in Jack's arms. Jack hadn't even known the man for an hour, yet he felt a profound sense of loss and bowed his head over Wells' body.

"Get up," snapped a woman's voice behind him. "Hands behind your head." Jack heard the distinctive click of a hammer and froze. Without moving his head, he glanced once more to where he had last seen Ianto, hoping he wouldn't find the Welshman lying dead in a pool of blood. There was still nothing. Looking around the dim space, he saw Cornelius and Black being covered by one soldier, while Georg was being dragged out from behind the bar by another. A third appeared from the back, shaking her head. Three soldiers in black lay dead on the floor along with Wolf and Wells. Jack took a deep breath, committing their positions to memory, hoping to get off a few shots as he turned.

The cold metal of the gun barrel pressed hard into his neck. Maybe not. "I said, get up. And if you try anything, I'll have Jones killed instead of captured."

Jack swore and stood slowly, arms over his head. He turned and came face to face with the woman he remembered from Aston Down. "Fancy meeting you here," he drawled, looking her up and down appraisingly. "Agent Johnson, isn't it? Going to blow me up again?"

"Seeing as it didn't work last time, probably not," she replied sourly. She glanced down at Wells' dead body. "Now that's interesting. Didn't think Torchwood and UNIT got along so well."

"We know when a situation is important enough to work together," Jack snapped.

Johnson raised an eyebrow. "And this business with the children? That's serious enough?"

"You have no idea," Jack growled. "So I suggest you let us go so we can fix this."

"I can't do that, Captain," she said. "I'm under orders. And this time your man Jones won't be able to rescue you." She tapped her earpiece. "Walters? Do you have Jones?" She frowned, and Jack felt his heart skip a beat, that maybe Ianto had escaped. She turned and glanced at the other three operatives with her, motioning one toward the back door. "What do you mean, you don't have him?"

Without warning, the soldier holding Georg in front of the bar went down clutching his chest, followed quickly by the woman moving toward the back. The soldier behind Cornelius dropped next, eyes rolling back in his head as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Johnson raised her weapon and whirled around, looking for an assailant she couldn't see, but Jack grinned, knowing exactly what was going on. He simply waited for it.

Despite knowing what was about to happen, Jack was startled by the sound of the gunshot. A bright red stain appeared in Johnson's shoulder as she staggered back into Jack. He wrestled her weapon away easily, and then she fell to her knees as another shot rang out and blood flowed from her thigh. Jack grabbed her around the neck and held tight.

"Ianto!" he called. "Enough! It's over." Jack heard the distinctive sound of a dry fire, then Ianto fell to the floor beside Bryan Wells, letting his empty weapon fall to the floor along with the perception filter. He carefully cradled his handler's body, his face hard, his eyes bright with tears. Jack placed a hand on his shoulder before taking charge.

"Georg!" Jack called, leaving Ianto to mourn in private for the moment. "Got any rope?"

The barman stood on unstable legs and stumbled behind the bar. He had several small cuts on his face and a larger one near his temple, probably from all the falling bottles, but he grinned a bit maniacally as he tossed Jack some rope; why they had rope behind the bar, Jack had no idea. "Can you take care of those guys?" he asked. Georg nodded and started across the café. As he helped Cornelius to a chair, Jack heard the pop of Georg's gun and wished he'd been more specific—he'd only intended that the man tie them up. Georg helped Cornelius to a chair, while Black went to sit with Wolf, obviously mourning a close friend or lover.

Jack pulled Johnson's arms behind her, uncaring of her injury. She was tough, he had to give her that; nothing more than a grunt indicated she'd been shot. Ianto certainly did have a thing for shoulders. He grabbed a cloth napkin from a nearby fallen table and stuffed it in her mouth, ripping out her earpiece and crushing it beneath his boot. Then he went back Ianto, having assured that they were safe.

Ianto had set down Bryan's body and closed his dead eyes. He was simply sitting beside his handler, staring into space. Jack didn't know how to approach him, unsure whether Ianto had been injured, but he started by kneeling next to him and laying a gentle hand on Ianto's shoulder once more. He was relieved when Ianto reached for it immediately and squeezed hard.

"I'm sorry," Jack said, and Ianto could only nod. "He cared about you, you know. Made me promise to look after you."

Ianto glanced at him, eyes red even in the dim light of the cafe. "Sounds like some cliché movie moment."

Jack shook his head. "It wasn't like that at all. He died defending us, and all he could think about at the end was your safety. He was a good man." He paused. "With a great right hook."

"Yes, he was," said Ianto, his head falling to his chest. Jack saw his shoulders shake, as if Ianto were holding back tears.

"Were you…was he…" Jack wasn't sure what he was asking, or even if he wanted to know the answer, but to his surprise, Ianto actually laughed, wiping his eyes as he turned toward Jack.

"No, it was nothing like that," he said. "I don't sleep with all my bosses. Bryan was married. He had children, a family, a normal life. His son died in Afghanistan a few years ago. I think I was a bit of a surrogate for him; I know he was for me. Now his wife has lost a son and a husband."

"I'm so sorry," Jack whispered again. "But he…he gave me his PDA. He said it would get us into the Black Archives."

Ianto looked at the device in confusion, then met Jack's eyes, his face suddenly furious. "How can you even think about that right now?" he hissed.

"Because I have to," Jack said, reaching for Ianto, who batted him away. "Because I said I'd make sure you were safe. Which is why we have to go. We have to finish this. He died to make it happen, and we need to honor that."

"We can't leave him!" Ianto cried. Cornelius appeared then, laying a gentle hand on Ianto's shoulder that was not thrown off.

"Captain Harkness is correct," he said softly. "You need to go. Georg is already making arrangements here. We will take care of Bryan and the others. You take care of the children."

Ianto looked stricken, and then once more that look of rage crossed his face, and with a snarl, he grabbed Bryan's fallen gun and strode over to where their two captives where propped up against the wall. He placed the weapon in the middle of Johnson's forehead.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger," he snarled, then ripped the gag from her mouth. "Tell me!"

"Go ahead," she said cooly. "They'll send someone else."

"Why?" he shouted. "Why are you trying to kill us when we're just trying to do our job?"

"I was under orders," said Johnson. "It's  _my_  job."

"Your job?" Ianto repeated. "Don't you realize what's really going on here? What you've done? We're trying to help!"

"So am I," she snapped. Ianto disengaged the safety, clearly prepared to fire **.**

"Ianto," Jack said softly, and he saw the other man's shoulders tense before falling slightly. Taking a deep breath, Ianto slammed the butt of the gun against Johnson's head, and she slumped sideways immediately.

"Go," said Cornelius. "We will take care of everything here. You must do what you have to do."

"I'm sorry," said Ianto, tears filling his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this."

"It was my choice to help," said Cornelius. "Now go, before it is too late and this has all been in vain. Go!"

Jack didn't need telling twice. He grabbed his gun, Ianto's empty weapon, and the perception filter, and then stood to take Ianto's hand, pulling him toward the back. Ianto followed pliantly, hunched over and shuffling wearily. Jack still had no idea if the other man was injured—he couldn't see any blood, but Ianto seemed more worn down than the situation warranted. He assumed that Ianto had snuck out the back and come back in through the front, and that it had probably involved taking out all the guards Johnson had stationed outside. Pride welled up within him, colored only by deep concern for Ianto's physical and emotional well-being. Perhaps he was going into shock.

They stepped into the alley and glanced around, Ianto still looking completely lost and dazed. Jack took out the perception filter, and they set out toward the river, holding hands. There were always places to hide by the river, for once more they were wanted men and on the run.

Not for the first time, Jack felt hope slipping away in the face of so many overwhelming obstacles. He had been through so much in his long life, but since he'd joined Torchwood, he'd always fought for the people of Earth, always tried to be the good guy. Now they had turned against him, and he was as much the enemy as the aliens trying to extort ten percent of the world's children. How could he stop them when he'd been shot, blown up, imprisoned, and forced on the run yet again?

And then Ianto squeezed his hand and offered a heartbreaking smile, and Jack knew he would do anything to keep his promise to Bryan Wells. He would keep Ianto safe, and that meant defeating the 456.

Starting with the Black Archives.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of those chapters that I squealed over as it came together, and one that I couldn't wait to post. So much happens, much of which was in play from the start. It was a bear to edit, so thank you so much to Taamar for her extra-hard work with the firefight at the end and her patient hashing out of the cyber tech angle. Let us know what you think! Because if it wasn't exciting enough, I just finished chapter 17 and that was almost as much fun to write. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
>  


	16. Day Five - Jack

Day Five - Jack

As they drew closer to the river, Ianto stopped, his face drawn and pale in the light of the setting sun. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Jack replied, glancing around. He didn't want to stop moving, but it was obvious Ianto needed a break, and maybe Jack could take a moment to figure out the answer to Ianto's question.

"May I make a suggestion, then?" the Welshman asked dryly, hands on his hips as he gazed across the river.

"By all means," said Jack. "You know me, always flying by the seat of my pants."

Ianto snorted as he pointed across the way. "If I'm not mistaken, there's an old Torchwood holding facility in Battersea. Could be someplace to hole up for a few hours, if not the night."

"What, you didn't want to book a five-star hotel?" Jack joked. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Ianto; the other man was shivering. "You're freezing."

"While a down comforter with a mint on my pillow at the Corinthian would be fabulous, I think we'll have to settle for something a bit less chic." Ianto sighed. "We need to rest, but we need to stay off the grid, and at the moment, I've no other resources than a bunk in the dark."

"I know," said Jack. He rubbed at his face. "All right, let's check it out. And hope we pass a decent pawn shop. We could use a few supplies."

Ianto frowned, shrugged, and trudged on. They found a pawnshop that looked legitimate enough, though Jack had certainly seen better. They sold Ianto's watch and his second gun for cash and picked out a battered blanket, a torch, and some ammunition for their other weapons. A few blocks later, they hailed a cab and tumbled in, exhausted. Ianto gave an address in Battersea and they walked the remaining distance to the old, decommissioned warehouse Ianto planned to hide out in overnight, picking up cheap take away along the way.

Breaking in was surprisingly easy; at least something was going right for them.

"It's not much, but it's home," said Ianto.

Though it had been abandoned by Torchwood One in the 1990s, it was apparent that squatters had come and gone throughout the years. There was a tattered sofa set next to a large oil drum that had obviously been used for fire and warmth, and not much else. It really wasn't a lot, but Jack had slept in far worse places, and he was thankful that they would at least have a warm, dry place to rest for a few hours.

Ianto collapsed on the sofa immediately, and Jack joined him. They stared around the large empty room, too exhausted to move. When Jack heard Ianto's breathing even out, he reluctantly nudged the other man awake.

"Eat first, sleep second," he murmured.

Ianto mumbled something under his breath, but sat up to eat the kebabs they had purchased on the way there. He ate slowly, while Jack finished quickly and decided to look around the warehouse a bit more before settling in for the night. He found some tables and chairs tucked into a corner, a bit of dried wood and newspaper, and even an old mattress. He left that in the corner, no doubt home to many rats, but threw the wood and paper into the drum and worked on starting a fire.

It didn't take long, and the sound of the flames crackling to life apparently startled Ianto from another doze.

"Jack!" he exclaimed, glancing around in alarm. "Someone will see it!"

"And they'll think we're squatters," Jack replied. "We need it."

Ianto sighed and set down his meal, barely touched. Jack joined him on the couch once more and laid a hand on his leg in concern. "Were you injured?" he asked, feeling guilty for not checking earlier. "At the café?"

"No," said Ianto. "Not physically."

Jack knew Ianto was referring to the death of his handler. It was not a loss they could deal with at that moment, but it seemed they had little choice. He put an arm around Ianto and pulled him close.

"I'm sorry," he said yet again.

"It's not your fault," said Ianto, his voice toneless and flat. Jack knew that sound; it was the sound of guilt.

"It's not yours either," he said, but Ianto shook his head.

"Yes, it is. He was involved because of me. Johnson was at the café because of me. Now he's dead because of me. And I ran. I left him."

"You had no choice," said Jack, and again, Ianto stopped him.

"Yes, Jack, I did," he said. He moved out of Jack's embrace, falling forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I've had so many choices since this started, and every time…I chose you."

Jack glanced at him in surprise, unsure how to respond.

"And the thing is," Ianto continued, his voice growing more bitter and upset, "that even though I've probably lost my flat and my job, even though my family and friends have been pulled in and suffered, even though that little boy died and Clement MacDonald died and Bryan died…I would have made the same choice every time." The last came out in a whisper.

Jack felt his heart stutter in his chest, that  _he_  had done to this Ianto. Despite the more rational part of his mind telling him that Ianto had chosen to become involved, Jack still knew  _he_  was the reason that Ianto had made that first, damning phone call that had sent him on the run. Ianto had given up his new life and been forced into hiding with Jack and his team, all because he had tried to warn them, to save them. To save Jack.

It wasn't Ianto's fault, then, it was Jack's fault. Just like it was Jack's fault that Ianto had left in the first place so many months ago.

Jack stood, abruptly unable to sit still any longer. He needed to move, to pace, or ideally, stand on the edge of a tall building and, as Ianto had once been fond of saying, brood his mood away. If he stayed, he'd be overwhelmed not only with the fear and hopelessness that churned in his gut, but with the guilt and grief that rolled off Ianto in waves.

A hand reached out to grab him as he took his first step away from the sofa.

"Don't go," whispered Ianto.

"Ianto, I'm—" Jack started, but his voice cracked. Ianto tugged on his hand.

"Stay," he said. "Please."

It was the plea more than anything that brought Jack back toward the sofa. This time Ianto wrapped an arm around him, holding tight and gently encouraging Jack to lean against his uninjured shoulder. They sat together in silence, long enough for Jack to wonder if Ianto had fallen asleep again.

"I'm sorry," Ianto finally murmured. It seemed the night would be one long series of apologies from one or the other of them. Jack started to sit up and protest, but Ianto held him closer.

"I'm sorry I left when I did," he said so quietly Jack could barely hear him. He could, however, sense the emotion in the man's voice. "I'm sorry I left the way I did, that I didn't contact you, that even when you were so close to finding me, I still ran."

Jack was stunned; it was the last thing he'd been expecting Ianto to say at that moment. He'd been putting it off since he'd first called Jack to warn him about the bomb. In truth, as much as Jack wanted to understand, it seemed a conversation better suited for when they were safe, when the 456 were defeated, the children saved, Torchwood out of hiding. Jack wasn't sure he was ready for that conversation, not after the day they'd had. He couldn't think about anything at that moment—not the past, not the present, and certainly not the future he always dreaded facing alone.

Alone.

Only he wasn't alone.

Jack was more aware than ever of Ianto sitting next to him, of the strong arm encircling him, of slim fingers trailing along his arm. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the sensation, wanting desperately to reach out and run his hand along Ianto's thigh, but holding back. How many times had Ianto stopped them since he'd come back? They were hiding in a cold, run-down warehouse; it was certainly not the most appropriate time, but Jack let his thoughts drift there anyway, remembering nights past with Ianto, his lips pressing kisses to Jack's neck, his hands stroking confidently down Jack's back, his legs wrapped passionately around Jack's waist…

The pattern of strokes along his arm changed, the intent less comforting and more seductive, as if Ianto were either reading Jack's thoughts, or perhaps having similar ones of his own. Jack knew this because he sensed the change in Ianto's entire body, heard the Welshman's intake of breath, felt the other man's heart beating faster in his chest. Raising his hand, he pressed it to Ianto's chest above the man's heart, tilting his head enough that he could reach Ianto's neck. He kissed it lightly, hesitantly, hoping that this time they wouldn't be interrupted, that Ianto wouldn't stop, wouldn't run away.

Ianto's hand came up to join with Jack's on his chest, and his eyes slipped closed as he stretched his neck, permission implicit. Jack kissed a line up to his ear, nibbling gently, then biting harder to pull out that moan he remembered so well from Ianto's lips. With a grin, Jack kissed his way along Ianto's jaw, then hovered above his lips, waiting once more. They stared into one another's eyes. Ianto dropped Jack's hand and brought his own to cup Jack's face, thumb tracing lightly over Jack's lips until Jack couldn't stand it anymore. He growled Ianto's name in the way he knew drove the other man wild; Ianto's eyes went wide, and without warning he pushed Jack down to the sofa, hovering over him as he began to tease Jack in exactly the same way Jack had teased him.

Kisses were dropped along his jaw, down his neck, across his collarbone…and soon enough Ianto lowered himself so that their hips met, erections rubbing together through clothing. Jack groaned with both frustration and desire, pulling Ianto closer, then claimed his lips in the kiss he'd wanted since they'd started.

Ianto grinned against him, then moaned as Jack's tongue hit all those spots he knew Ianto loved. He ran his hands up and down Ianto's back before carefully pushing his suit coat off onto the sofa, then unbuttoning the silk waistcoat. He pulled Ianto's shirt from his trousers and let his hands roam over the firm skin of his back and chest. Though the warehouse was cold, the heat from the fire was enough for him to confidently pull Ianto's shirts over his head. Ianto placed them with his coat and reached down to begin working on Jack's shirt.

Jack stopped him, running a hand over Ianto's shoulders; the right was still wrapped, but it was the left that caught his attention. In the dim light of the fire he could barely see the scars, but the rough skin beneath his fingers was testament to a severe injury. He felt Ianto tense under Jack's curious touch, and so he stopped, moving his hands away from Ianto's upper body completely.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Didn't duck quickly enough," Ianto replied, refusing to meet Jack's eyes. To Jack's surprise, he returned to unbuttoning Jack's shirt, as if determined to remain silent on the issue. Jack wanted to know.

"Australia?" he asked, running his hand over the pinched and puckered flesh once more. The twisted scars ran from Ianto's collarbone across his shoulder and down his upper arm. Jack was surprised he had missed it the other night at Flat Holm, but Ianto had kept his undershirt on all night; now Jack understood why.

Ianto sighed and sat back, moving away from Jack toward the other side of the battered sofa and clearly done trying to distract him. "Yeah, it was in Sydney."

"Was it a Dalek?" asked Jack, sitting up, his shirt half open. Ianto ran a hand through his hair, nodded, then reached for his own shirt, obviously intending to put it back on. Jack stopped him, taking the shirt and moving it out of the way.

"Jack," Ianto said, but Jack shook his head. He pulled Ianto toward him, glad when the man did not resist, though he was eyeing Jack warily. He kissed Ianto before gently lowering him to the sofa, reversing their position from moments earlier. He brushed his fingers across Ianto's face and offered an understanding smile.

"I hate Daleks," he said before lowering his lips to Ianto's shoulder and kissing each ruined stretch of skin. He could feel Ianto shudder beneath him.

"I hate the scars they leave behind," Ianto whispered.

Jack licked and kissed and even suckled a love bite into Ianto's shoulder. "They're a mark of survival—of bravery, loyalty, strength, wisdom. I have no scars."

"Oh Jack," said Ianto, his fingers tangling in Jack's hair. Jack paused, ducking his head away as he tried to get his emotions under control. Ianto pulled him up by the chin before placing his other hand over Jack's heart. "You do. They're just not on the outside."

"Maybe someday," murmured Jack, running his fingers along Ianto's shoulder once more. "Maybe one day I'll have suffered enough to carry the scars on the outside."

"I wouldn't wish it on you," whispered Ianto. "You've suffered enough."

"I'd take the mark, though," Jack said. "If it meant…" He trailed off, not sure how to finish. Ianto gazed at him with such complete understanding that Jack was almost overcome. He felt the tears prick at his eyelids and blinked them away.

"I know," said Ianto. He leaned up to kiss Jack, a slow leisurely kiss that was more about comfort and pleasure than lust and desire. "I missed you."

Jack groaned. "God Ianto, I missed you. I  _need_  you."

Jack hadn't even noticed Ianto unbuttoning his shirt until the Welshman pushed it off Jack's shoulders, then reached beneath Jack's undershirt and pulled it over his head in one swift move. Running his fingers along Jack's chest, Ianto ground their hips together and then met Jack for another kiss.

"You have me," he said. "Forever."

It was as close as they'd ever come to any sort of declaration of feelings since being reunited, and Jack felt his heart swell. They kissed passionately this time, roaming hands moving toward belts and zips until they were quickly naked, the orange glow of the fire keeping them warm while casting their dancing shadows about the warehouse. They touched and explored, relearning one another's bodies after going so long without one another's touch.

For Jack, it was as if Ianto had never left. Yes, he had changed, both physically and mentally, but deep down he was still the same man Jack had missed for so many long months. As they brought one another to a mutual climax in the middle of the dark warehouse, Jack was filled with such comfort, such love, that he came with Ianto's name on his lips more ardently than ever before.

They cleaned themselves with leftover napkins from their earlier meal, then settled down under the blanket with Jack's coat thrown on top, still skin to skin. Once more Jack kissed Ianto's scarred shoulder, and Ianto leaned down to kiss Jack's scarred heart. And together they fell into an early slumber, the fear and panic of the last four days given over to the solace of one another's embrace.

* * *

When Jack woke several hours later, he was surprised to glance at their phone and see that they'd slept for six hours. They'd needed it; Jack had died several times, and Ianto had been shot and on the run for days. He'd been exhausted by the time they'd fallen asleep, but now he seemed agitated, twitching in his sleep, an occasional moan escaping tight lips. Jack guessed Ianto was having some sort of nightmare, and tried to gently rouse the young man out of it. When he touched Ianto's shoulder, he was surprised to find that Ianto was extremely warm, almost feverish. He also didn't wake until Jack shook him, then shot bolt upright, almost hitting Jack in the face.

"No!" he shouted, throwing off Jack's arm and glancing around with wild eyes. "Not again, not him too!" Jack continued to speak softly, rubbing circles on Ianto's back, until he focused and frowned. "Jack? What's going on?"

"Nightmare, I'd wager," Jack replied. Ianto scrubbed at his face, running his hands through his hair and coming away with a grimace, his hair standing on end.

"I'm hot," he stated.

"I'll say," Jack replied with a grin. Ianto shook his head.

"No, I mean I feel hot. But it's freezing in here." He wrapped his arms around himself, already shivering.

"I thought you seemed warmer than normal," Jack replied, pulling him close. "Fever, maybe? Could your shoulder be infected?"

Ianto glanced down at the dressing on his shoulder. "I had a shot at Flat Holm," he said. "Should be fine. Doesn't hurt much. It's the rest of me that aches, head to toe and even my hair."

Jack frowned with concern. Now was not the time for Ianto to fall ill, and given their involvement with various aliens, Jack always worried about extraterrestrial viruses and tech affecting his people. Yet, there was no way they could be certain that something other than an earthbound illness was affecting him. As Ianto had said the night before, they were off the grid, and they had no one to turn to in London.

"We'll pick up some paracetamol," Jack said. "Hopefully it's nothing too serious."

Ianto nodded, his eyes closed as he leaned into Jack, which told Jack almost immediately that Ianto must be tired and hurting, because normally he worked hard to hide his thoughts and feelings, even with cracked ribs and concussions.

"What time is it?" Ianto asked wearily. "Because while I'd love to go back to sleep, I suspect we need to get moving."

"Not yet five in the morning. You're probably right, we should figure out how we're going to get into the Black Archives. You hungry?"

"Not at all," Ianto said with a grimace. "But I'd give anything for a shower and some coffee."

"And clean clothes," Jack added. "But with any luck we can end this today. Send them packing, shower, then sleep for a week."

"I'll take you up on that, you know," Ianto murmured, his eyes slipping closed, his voice barely audible. "I could start right now."

"And I wish I could let you," Jack replied, kissing him awake. "But I need you. Come on, let's get dressed."

Ianto was so groggy he had a hard time buttoning his shirt. Jack helped him get dressed, growing more worried by the minute. He'd thought they would sit down with Bryan's PDA in the warehouse, but he quickly realized Ianto needed to be someplace warm, preferably with coffee, and that he would need some type of medication if he was going to make it through the day.

"You sure you're all right?" he asked, and Ianto forced his eyes open wide with a firm nod.

"Fine, just tired. Let's see what we've got."

"What if we find a diner or something? Stop and get you some painkillers, then we can eat and drink coffee until we're awake enough to actually accomplish something."

"I'm not hungry," Ianto started again, but Jack should his head.

"You should eat. You need food and water and some paracetamol. I can see how stiff you are, and I don't mean in your trousers," he added when Ianto cocked an eyebrow. "I'm worried."

"I'm fine," Ianto repeated, and Jack growled at him.

"Stop saying that. We've had a shit few days. It's okay if you're not all right."

"No it's not!" Ianto snapped with an unexpected burst of energy. "There's still too much to do. There's no time for simply feeling run down." He finished his rant with an intake of breath that rattled in his chest, then fell into a coughing fit that startled both him and Jack with its sudden intensity.

"That's it," Jack said. "You need something for that cough or we won't get anything done. Let's go. Chemist first, food second, Black Archives third."

"No!" said Ianto, planting himself on the sofa. "We should look at what Bryan left us. It might change your plan."

Jack narrowed his eyes, but suspected he would not win out against Ianto's stubbornness. He handed over the PDA he'd kept in his coat pocket and watched as Ianto scrolled through it, obviously familiar enough with the device to know what he was looking for. He waited impatiently for several minutes before finally demanding to know what Ianto was reading.

When Ianto glanced up, he had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away and stood unsteadily, still gripping the PDA. "He really was brilliant," Ianto murmured, handing the device to Jack. "We're to go to a safehouse. I know it." He shook his head. "We should have gone last night."

Jack grinned. "I don't know, this was kind of cozy."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I won't miss it. Let's go. Everything we need should be there by now."

"Like what?" asked Jack, following Ianto toward the door. When the Welshman stumbled, Jack caught his elbow, his heart skipping in panic. What was wrong with Ianto? Why was he so fatigued? Ianto took another breath that rattled deep in his chest, but did not break down into another spasm of coughing. He tried to shake off the hand on his elbow, but Jack held tight.

"Let me help you," he said quietly. "Then tell me what the plan is."

Ianto sighed and walked slowly toward the door. "Bryan had another identity already set up and ready to go. Makes sense since I'd blown all the others. He probably worked on it while we were driving back and forth across the southern UK." He shook his head with a wry smile. "I'm now a captain in UNIT with level one security clearance, seconded to MI-5 at Thames House to replace Marc Howell."

It took a minute for Jack to figure it out. "You're replacing yourself?" he asked, and Ianto managed a weak chuckle. It was a good sound to hear as they stepped out in the dark morning.

"Yep. I'm almost equal rank with you now. And I'd wager that while we were all yelling at one another back at the Starry Night, Bryan was also writing the orders that would get my new identity into the Black Archives to study the tech we need. All I need to do is send them."

They headed toward the nearest busy road, the perception filter in hand once more. Beside him, Ianto sighed heavily, whether from grief or fatigue, Jack wasn't sure. He was turning over the plan in his head and had several questions.

"All right, first of all: won't this new guy look an awful lot like the old guy, who happens to look a lot like the very wanted and on-the-run Ianto Jones?" he asked. Ianto shook his head.

"Look at the picture," he said, and Jack pulled out the PDA. "Different color eyes, different color hair, different beard." He squinted at the screen in the dark. "Is that an earring?"

Jack grinned. "I don't know, but it's hot. You can really pull this off?"

Ianto nodded confidently. "I've done it several times now, been through enough identities. It's sort of funny how easily people accept that you are who you say you are. Minute differences, a valid ID, and changing up one's clothing or accent are all it takes."

"Oh," said Jack, glancing down again. "So no more Welsh vowels for this guy?"

"Looks like I'll have to pull out my Scottish consonants," Ianto laughed. "Lighten my hair, trim the beard and mustache, green contacts and wire frames, and we're good to go. Also, there should be a UNIT uniform at the safe house."

"So you put on a uniform, walk in, and grab the transmitter?" Jack asked skeptically. Ianto somehow managed to look affronted.

"There's much more to it than that, Jack. It's an entirely new identity, not just a walk-on part in a play."

Jack winked as he linked arms, sensing Ianto's fatigue as he slowed down. "All I know is, I'm looking forward to that UNIT cap!"

He was rewarded with the eye roll he'd missed so much. "Of course you are."

"Red is your color."

"It'll probably be an officer's cap, Jack. I'm a captain now."

"I'll take it."

"You're incorrigible."

"Don't you know it!" They both laughed, enjoying the rare, lighthearted moment. It took a while to find a cab so late—or so early—but eventually they managed. Ianto gave the driver an address near the safehouse and immediately leaned back with his eyes closed. His breathing was labored again, his face flushed from their short walk. Jack wondered if they needed to chance a trip to a doctor, but decided they could not risk it. They needed the transmitter, and they needed to be free to grab it, not forced on the run again. Hopefully one of the doctors at Flat Holm could look at Ianto before the day was over.

Ianto actually fell asleep during the short cab ride, and Jack felt awful for waking him. He handed the driver some bills from their trip to the pawnshop, then helped Ianto to the pavement and let the Welshman point them in the direction of the safehouse. Ten minutes later, after a short walk and a complicated exchange of strange passwords that made Ianto shake his head in fond exasperation, they were ensconced in a small bedroom on the second floor of a completely innocuous walk-up. Ianto pulled a suitcase from under the bed and began to go through it. Jack checked the room, then went downstairs to ask their hosts about some possible breakfast.

He came back up to find Ianto leaning over the sink trying to catch his breath. He'd already colored his hair and was waiting for it to set, but had apparently had another coughing fit. Green contacts threw Jack off as he gazed into the mirror at Ianto. Gently, he helped the man stand and handed him a glass of water with several pills.

"Breakfast is on the way. Take these in the meantime. For the pain and congestion."

To his surprise, Ianto didn't protest, knocking them back quickly and finishing the glass of water even quicker. He nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks, that should do it." He reached for the razor on the edge of the sink, but Jack stopped him.

"Let me help," said Jack, picking up the razor himself. "You've done this once already this week, right?"

"After I called you, yeah."

"Must be a record or something," Jack replied. "So what're we doing with the beard? Which I love, by the way."

"Longer mustache," Ianto replied, closing his eyes as he let Jack apply shaving soap to his face. "Smaller, sharp goatee. Then the earring, throw on the uniform and wire frames, and voila! Sean Munroe, UNIT officer."

"I can't wait," Jack laughed. He did exactly as Ianto had instructed, carefully trimming back Ianto's beard and sideburns with a clean shave. They were silent as they worked, the act comfortable and intimate. Jack had never done this for Ianto before, had not done such a thing with another man for decades. In spite of the grimness of the situation and the reasons for doing it, he found it was both relaxing and arousing.

By the end Ianto appeared to be feeling the same. He leaned forward and captured Jack's mouth in a short but passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmured when he pulled back, his voice low. "That was…well. Yeah. Never done that before."

"You're welcome," Jack replied, equally as hoarse.

"Time to wash out the color," Ianto said, snapping back into professional mode. "Thank god for a shower."

"Can I join you?" Jack murmured into his ear.

"Jack…" Ianto started.

"Now's not the time, I know," said Jack, pressing a kiss to Ianto's neck. "But you're fighting something, you're exhausted, and you're about to walk into another dangerous situation. Let me help you."

"I can wash myself," Ianto pointed out.

"I'll get those hard to reach places." Jack winked, and Ianto burst out laughing.

"Of course you will. Probably with your tongue," he remarked dryly. He started the water before stepping out of his trousers.

"Is that a yes?" asked Jack. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Not for that, but for a quick shower, yes."

Jack stripped his clothes and joined Ianto in the shower. It was a tight fit, but he insisted on shampooing Ianto's hair, knowing that while his shoulder wound from the night he'd left London was healing, it was probably still sore. He then washed Ianto from head to toe, after which Ianto returned the favor. They kissed and touched and to his surprise Ianto reached out of the shower and reappeared with a small packet of lube and a condom in hand.

"Where was that last night?" Jack demanded. Ianto laughed again.

"Standard equipment stocked at every safe house," he teased.

"No, really," said Jack.

"Yes, really. One never knows what part one might have to play."

Jack groaned. "Wish we'd had it back at the warehouse."

"Too dirty," Ianto replied, wrinkling his nose. "This is much better."

"Are you sure?"

Ianto stared into his eyes before kissing him again and beginning to stroke them both as he did. "Not really, but it might be the…" He trailed off, the implication clear. Jack kissed him hard.

"It won't be. Not today."

It didn't last long, given that they were both tired and hungry and worried about their upcoming mission. But it was comfort and release and above all a connection. They reluctantly stepped out of the shower, knowing that it would be another long day. Ianto pulled on the UNIT officer's dress uniform that had been left for him—really, how the hell had Bryan managed it? It even fit perfectly. Jack was once again impressed with the man and mourned the loss both professionally and personally.

There were several accessories as well. Thin wire frame glasses gave Ianto a studious air, and a thick Celtic wedding band was placed on his left hand; when Jack raised an eyebrow, Ianto shrugged and blamed it on Bryan. Then he found a needle.

"You really don't have to—" Jack started, but Ianto plunged it through his earlobe with a hiss, then inserted the diamond earring that had been with the other supplies. He held a cool washcloth over it for a moment and offered a shaky grin.

"Always wanted a diamond stud," he said. "And yes I do. I suspect it's a tracking device of some sort." Jack took the towel away. The ear was red but Jack hoped it would return to normal by the time they reached UNIT headquarters. To his surprise, Ianto added a bit of makeup, muttering under his breath in embarrassment. He styled his hair, a lighter brown that complimented his pale skin better than the last, added the glasses and officer's cap, and then turned toward Jack.

He really did look different, and exactly like the picture on the ID that Bryan had somehow doctored. He even held himself differently— confident and intelligent, yet with an air of aloofness that spoke more of an academic than a soldier. And when he spoke, Jack didn't recognize his voice at all.

"Christ, you're good at this," Jack said, unable to stop staring. Ianto winked and turned back to the suitcase. He slipped a new SIG-Sauer P226 pistol into his back holster, as well as his doctored ID, another mobile phone, and the perception filter. For a brief moment, Jack wondered what it was like, being an undercover agent. Oh, he'd been undercover before, and he'd played all sorts of roles in his conman days, but this was so different. This was an almost complete transformation. He was intrigued, and not a little envious.

"I'm not sure what it says about me that I can do this," Ianto remarked, glancing at himself in the mirror. Jack nodded in understanding. He'd often thought the same thing about himself. He'd been a good conman; did that make him a bad person? He'd like to think he was a better man now, but he could understand Ianto's doubts about his unique ability to inhabit a new identity.

"It means you're strong, you're clever, and in this outfit—damn sexy." He kissed him once again, then stepped back. "So now what?"

"I sent the orders from the warehouse. I'm to be there at 0700. I should be able to get in with no problems." He grimaced. "It's getting out that will be hard."

"We already know the memory wipe won't affect you," Jack pointed out, and Ianto nodded in agreement.

"Unless I've been away too long, but even if it did, it will be after the fact. It only wipes your memories from the moment you enter the archive. I'll still remember why I went there and where you are."

"Where am I going to be?" Jack realized how much of the lead he was giving to Ianto and felt a tug of concern, that he wasn't more personally involved. He was the one who could die and come back, after all. Why was he letting Ianto walk into a potential trap where anything could happen? Ianto may have been doing this for the past several months, but Jack hated the thought of him walking in there alone, sick, and injured.

"Ianto," he started, frowning as endless possibilities for disaster raced through his mind: Ianto captured, Ianto arrested, Ianto injured, Ianto killed. "Maybe I should do this," he said. "Maybe this isn't a job for stealth after all. Anything could go wrong."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "And strolling in with guns cocked and ready is a better plan? Jack, it might have worked with cannibals, but it won't work at UNIT Headquarters. Trust me."

"I do," Jack insisted. "I really do. I don't want to put you in more danger."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Been there, done that. Torchwood, remember? I can do this, Jack. Let me do this."

"How are you going to get out, then?" Jack demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and challenging Ianto to answer. This was what worried him most, how Ianto could possibly smuggle the transmitter out of the Black Archives without being captured.

"I…well…" His shoulders sagged, and he sat heavily on the bed. "I don't know. Bryan said he could get us in, but there were no suggestions for getting out. He might have had a plan, but he…" Ianto trailed off, his head falling forward. Jack sat next to him, hoping to offer support, knowing it was not his best ability.

"What's the security level on the artifacts?"

"What do you mean?" Ianto asked with a frown.

"I mean, can you walk out with it under your cap? Or put it in your pocket and claim you're happy to see someone?" Jack tried not to smirk at the last, but failed. Ianto either didn't notice, or ignored him.

"It's pretty damn tight, Jack," he said. "I'm not sure I could even walk out with a pen."

"Then we need a plan."

Ianto swore under his breath before he abruptly stood up. "We need to be on time. We'll improvise on the way."

"That's more my style than yours," Jack pointed out.

"Maybe you're finally rubbing off on me," Ianto murmured. Jack grinned as he joined him.

"Been there, done that," he said, earning an eye roll from Ianto.

They picked up the room, stashed the suitcase under the bed once more, and went downstairs. Their hosts were nowhere to be found, so they grabbed the food set out for them and left quietly through the back door. Glancing around, Ianto tossed the perception filter to Jack, then started for the nearest tube station, nibbling half-heartedly on a muffin. At least he looked like he had more energy, even if half of it was smoke and mirrors and the other half was adrenaline. He must have felt Jack watching him.

"I'll figure it out, Jack," Ianto said. "I can probably talk my way out, or if I need to, fight. Or pull the fire alarm. But I think there's a good chance there will be something in the archive itself that will help me sneak the transmitter out."

"Like what?" Jack asked. Ianto shrugged.

"No idea," he replied. "But I've got to try. Bryan wouldn't send me in if he didn't think I could get out."

"Maybe he didn't have any ideas either," Jack replied. Bryan Wells had worked several miracles for them already, but Bryan was dead and they were alone and Jack was not about to lose Ianto again.

"Maybe," Ianto agreed.

"I don't like it," Jack stated stubbornly. "I think it's worse than our last plan."

"I don't like it either," Ianto snapped. "Do you think I want to walk straight in there and steal the very thing that killed my girlfriend along with half the men and women I worked with? Do you think I want to use it, even if it saves the world? Do you think I want to let you…or to be the one…"

He stopped, his breathing labored once more, as if between walking to the station and arguing with Jack it was too taxing for his lungs. He flung the remains of his breakfast into the street with a virulent curse, then chugged his water bottle and dumped it as well. He continued walking, leaving Jack behind, somewhat stunned at the outburst and hurrying to catch up.

"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly, and Ianto hung his head.

"Me too," he whispered.

"It's just that I'm worried about you."

"I know."

"And I'm scared."

"Me too."

Jack reached out and took his hand. "But we have to find a way to do this anyway."

Ianto gazed into his eyes and finally nodded. "Right. We will. We should probably stop arguing about it, to start with."

"Good idea," said Jack. "Then what?"

Ianto continued walking with a sigh. "I think you're going to have to trust me on this, Jack."

"I trust you," Jack replied. "You broke me out of a military base, and you pulled my arse out of Thames House. You even found me a new coat! I trust you with my life, and my death." He was still terrified and he would still worry, but Jack knew deep down that Ianto was right. Bryan had got Ianto into the archives and though he hadn't had time to work out a plan to get him out, it was obvious he'd trained Ianto well enough for the Welshman to work on his own now. Jack had to believe it and accept it, as hard as it was to not walk in together, side by side as they had done at Thames House.

Because that had gone so well, after all.

Ianto nodded, but did not answer, and they walked in silence to the tube stop. They would arrive at the Tower Hill stop within forty minutes, giving them plenty of time to either plan or rest on the train. Ianto appeared to be doze off almost immediately, and Jack wondered if the medicine he'd taken earlier had already worn off, but there was nothing to be done. He let Ianto sleep and tried not to think about him walking into the Tower of London on his own. Instead, he worked himself up into a state of high anxiety as he tried to piece together the next steps of their insane plane: get back to Flat Holm, attempt to use the cyber transmitter, implant it if needed, stand by with a gun if the worst happened. It was that last thought that made his blood run cold every time.

It was not yet 0700 as they walked toward the Tower of London. They parted ways with a nod, a meeting place, and a time. There would be no further communication until Ianto came out. Jack had no way of knowing if Ianto was in trouble, if he was hurt or captured or killed, and the tracking device within his earring was not particularly reassuring. He found a corner table at a nearby café, sipping coffee and trying not to knock down the front gate and take on UNIT himself.

It was one of their worst plans ever.

And then Martha called less than hour into his vigil, and things got even worse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the calm before the storm, dear readers, so hold on tight. Thank you and enjoy!


	17. Day Five - Ianto

Day Five - Ianto

Just as he'd anticipated, getting into the Black Archives had been relatively straightforward. He adjusted his stride and stance and remembered his Scottish accent. His uniform and ID badge got him through the front entrance with no questions asked. Once inside, he checked in and asked for directions to the archives, remembering that while he'd been there before, not many others had, even UNIT officers. After taking the lift to the right level, he was checked a third time and given a special badge for the archives along with a printed copy of the orders granting him access. Bryan was really quite brilliant.

As he walked toward the entrance to the archives, Ianto belatedly wondered if Bryan had linked Ianto's retina scan, which he had on file with his finger and palm prints, to his new UNIT identity. If not, the game would be over almost immediately. He handed his badges to the agent at the door, who examined them thoroughly, double-checking on his computer before motioning Ianto to step up toward the retina scan. Ianto's heart was racing as the tiny lasers crisscrossed over his eyes and he waited for the result. He was sure it was taking longer, certain it would flag him, until it beeped and he was allowed through.

A scientist met him inside, asking for his papers without even looking up at him. Ianto handed her the printed orders and waited once more while she located the object he needed. He could easily find the device himself, given his time in the archives. Yet not only did his new identity as a UNIT officer have a completely different background, but even if he had been there, he was not supposed to remember. And so Ianto pretended to gaze around curiously, letting his thoughts wander.

The medicine Jack had given him had relieved a good deal of his body aches, but Ianto still felt tight in his chest, unable to fill his lungs completely and constantly holding back another debilitating coughing fit. His head was heavy, and at times he felt like he was swallowing rocks. Certain it had nothing to do with his shoulder wound, Ianto was vaguely worried about something worse, something alien or underhanded given his recent activities. Considering the stressful week he'd had, it was more likely he was coming down with a cold or the flu, and he forced him to work through it, just as he had any number of times. He could not afford to be ill, not now; there would be time to regain his health later. Even Bryan would let him have time off to—

Not for the first time, it hit Ianto that his handler was dead, and he bit his lip to keep from sighing in sorrow. Ianto was deep under London Tower and Bryan could not help him. Even if he did get out and they somehow defeated the 456, what then? Would he go back to UNIT and be assigned a new handler? Would they take him back after all he had done or would he be arrested no matter how the situation turned out?

Ianto had told Jack that Bryan was like a surrogate father to him, and he'd meant it. They'd clicked almost immediately when Ianto had been assigned to Bryan Wells, instinctively trusting the experienced agent with his new life. Though they hadn't worked together for long, Ianto had trained closely with Bryan, and the cases they had been involved in had been intense. Ianto would desperately miss Bryan's quick wit, his astounding cleverness, and his unflagging support, both personally and professionally. Ianto had barely survived Torchwood during Jack's absence; he wasn't sure he wanted to go back to UNIT after Bryan's death and go through something similar yet again. Ianto was tired of losing the people he grew close to.

Bryan had suspected Ianto'd left Torchwood for more reasons than he'd let on, but he hadn't pushed it. He'd asked subtle questions here and there, until Ianto had finally felt comfortable enough telling him everything but the sordid details. Bryan had already had a sketchy impression of Jack Harkness and Torchwood Three, and his opinion had gone down considerably in spite of Ianto's protests that it hadn't been as bad as it sounded. It was why Ianto had been surprised when Bryan had been so willing to help: his handler had no love for Jack whatsoever. Which had been obvious at the Starry Night, and yet Bryan had still done everything he could to help them before he'd been killed.

Ianto closed his eyes against the vision of the café, bullet holes and bodies littering the tables and chairs. He'd shot six people, and though he could lock it off in the part of his mind that knew he had done what was necessary, that didn't mean he liked it. He still felt the guilt, the grief, and the anger at being forced to take one life in order to save another. One day those emotions would rise up and pull him under completely. At that moment, he pushed it all aside once more to focus on the woman before him, who had apparently found the location of the cyber transmitter and was waiting for him to follow.

"Sorry," he murmured, shaking his head. "Gathering wool."

"It's all right," she replied. Her nametag said Dr. Stewart. Ianto had not seen her before and wondered if she was new, or if he'd met her when the memory wipes had still worked and didn't remember. "It can be overwhelming, especially when you leave." She pointed to the ceiling. "You are aware that the memory of your visit here will be wiped when you're finished?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She nodded, then frowned. "Out of curiosity, Captain, how do you intend to take back any information to your superiors if you can't remember anything?"

Ianto gestured to the paperwork she held. "I'm to take notes. They're to be approved before I leave and placed in a sealed envelope for transport."

"That's odd," she said. "I'm not sure we've ever done that before."

"I believe the situation calls for it," replied Ianto, going for grim. "Desperate measures and all that."

Stewart stopped short, and Ianto, once again gazing around at artifacts he shouldn't have recognized but did, bumped into her. "It's that bad?" she asked quietly. "This thing with the children?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I believe so. Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to discuss it. Not that I know much," he added with a bitter pitch to his voice. "I'm just a lackey at the moment."

"Well, I don't know how this can possibly help," Dr. Stewart said, leading him into a small room. On one end were the horrifying remains of a cyber headset, and Ianto shut his eyes, suddenly dizzy as memories assaulted him—of Canary Wharf, of the metal monsters, of Lisa screaming from the conversion table…

Something must have shown on his face, for Stewart was watching him with sympathy. "You were there, weren't you?" she asked. "At Canary Wharf."

Ianto felt he could nod without breaking character. Perhaps Sean Munroe had been there, after all. She laid a hand on his arm. "They shouldn't have sent you."

"It's  _why_  they sent me," he replied. She pursed her lips.

"We work for cruel masters," she murmured. Unlocking the glass case, Stewart took out the cyber transmitter and placed it on a nearby table.

"Here it is. It was recovered in the 1980s, since most of the cyber components from Canary Wharf were sucked into the Void. We've tried to work with it, but the project was too dangerous. The risk of conversion was too high, and we haven't been able to replicate the device with our own technology and materials."

Ianto picked up the transmitter, a small, harmless looking silver box no larger than his thumb. He stared at it, trying not to imagine what it had been like for so many of his friends and colleagues to find it forced into their brains, taking over their minds. He shook his head.

"A nightmare in silver," he murmured. Stewart looked at him oddly.

"It could prove useful someday," she said. "Science leads, Captain. It doesn't only destroy."

He glanced bitterly at her. "You weren't there. They were undefeatable. It was a bloodbath," he whispered, letting his eyes slip closed.

"Captain, are you sure you'll be all right?" she asked. "If you're not up to this…"

"I'll be fine," he said. He took the folder she offered him, a collation of all of UNIT's research into the device. Bryan's orders had worked particularly well if UNIT was offering such information freely. Then again, Captain Munroe was UNIT, and Colonel Oduya was on the front lines of the situation with the 456 at Thames House, so there was little reason for UNIT to keep secrets from its own when the situation demanded collaboration.

"Thank you," Ianto offered with a forced smile and a softer tone. "I appreciate your help. I shouldn't be long."

"You're welcome," Dr. Stewart replied. "When you're finished, I'll look over your notes. I'm going to double-check with my co-worker about how much we can let you out with."

"We're looking for a way to stop this strange transmission process amongst the children," he said, offering some information in the hope it would help. "Anything you can refrain from redacting may help us achieve that goal."

She nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yes, sir," she replied, addressing him formally, then turned and left him alone. He sat down at the table and once more stared at the silver contraption in his hands.

He wanted to smash it to pieces, burn it, and cast the ashes into the ocean. It was foul, it was evil, it shouldn't exist, and UNIT should never have worked with it, shouldn't even have it. He hated it and found himself squeezing it tight, glaring at it, as if it were responsible for so much of the pain and hatred he'd suffered over the last two years. In some ways, it was.

Taking a deep breath to calm his irrational anger sent him into a coughing fit. His chest seized up, and Ianto almost slumped to the table, the pain and fatigue too much as he struggled to draw a steady breath. Perhaps his emotions had overwhelmed him, or the medication had worn off, though it had not been so long since he'd taken it. He feared a turn for the worse, whatever that may be. Forcing himself to sit upright, he pushed it all aside. He could not be sick; he needed to do his job. Shallow breaths, slow and steady. When he was ready, he picked up his pen.

Ianto started to write out notes on the device, pulling information from the files as well as his own observations. He hadn't got far when he heard footsteps behind him, but ignored them in favor of finishing as quickly as possible. He needed water, he needed medicine, he needed to figure out a way to steal the bloody thing so he could save the goddamn world…

"Hello there!" said a chipper voice behind him. Ianto let his eyes slip closed, cursing the interruption. He did not turn around but acknowledged the greeting with a nod.

"Good morning, sir," he offered as he continued writing.

"Studious young soldier, aren't we?" said the voice, moving closer. Before Ianto could reply, a man was standing across the table from him, dressed in dark trousers with a grey suitcoat and a bright red bowtie. He wore a matching fez and peered at Ianto through small round glasses before frowning at the artifact Ianto was studying.

"Oh no," he said. "No, no. You shouldn't have this. It's not a toy." He picked up the cyber transmitter without asking and frowned at it. "What could you possibly want with such a terrible thing?"

Ianto stood and faced the man, frustrated and annoyed. The man was clearly not UNIT, yet Ianto was not aware of civilians being allowed into the Black Archives, particularly oddly dressed ones with far too much energy. He had a fleeting thought that he dismissed as quickly as it appeared.

"Personally, I want nothing to do with it," he answered bluntly, mildly surprised at his honesty. "I'm here to study it. It may prove useful."

The man gave him a disdainful look. "You do know what it is, right? There's nothing useful about these things. They're barbaric." He tossed it carelessly back toward the table, but Ianto reached out and caught it.

"With all due respect, sir," he ground out, torn between agreeing with the man and hating him for almost destroying their last chance at success, "that is not for you to decide, but my superiors."

He glanced up to find the man staring at him. He came around the table and leaned in close, and Ianto could have sworn the man even sniffed him. Then he stepped back, took his glasses off, and grinned broadly.

"Of course. You're just the messenger."

"Yes, sir," replied Ianto, instantly wary.

"The teaboy, perhaps," the man offered, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that reminded Ianto far too much of Jack.

"The what?" Ianto stuttered, thrown by the statement. Something was wrong. His cover was blown, he had to get out, he had to—

The man before him took out a long cylindrical instrument that Ianto immediately recognized from his time at Torchwood One. Placing a finger to his lips, the man held it up, pressed a button, and though nothing appeared different, Ianto knew that something had changed. He could be in a different dimension for all he knew. Letting his eyes slip closed, Ianto swore under his breath.

"What's that?" asked the man, tucking the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket. "You can speak freely now. No more monitoring. Go on, then."

"You're the Doctor," Ianto stated, his heart sinking. The Doctor was here. Of all the times, all the places, the Doctor was right there before him. It vaguely occurred to Ianto that perhaps the Doctor could help—maybe that was why he was there—yet his overwhelming feeling was not one of relief, but loss. Jack would undoubtedly be leaving any time now. Ianto had left Cardiff, Torchwood was gone, and the Doctor was in London: Jack had no reason to stay. Ianto only hoped he stuck around long enough to help them defeat the 456.

"Got it in one!" the man crowed, and Ianto let his gaze slip to the floor, feeling utterly defeated by fate's sense of timing. He'd really wanted to be wrong. A finger tilted his chin up. "And you're Ianto Jones."

He sucked in a breath, bit back the cough that threatened to break through, and shook his head, stopping immediately when pain pulsed behind his eyes. "Sorry, sir. Captain Sean Munroe, UNIT."

The Doctor laid a sly finger alongside his nose. "Right," he said, drawing it out. "Captain Munroe it is, then. And how is Captain Harkness?"

It was like a fist was clenching his heart. Ianto locked everything away—his fear, his heartbreak, his resentment—and stood at attention as best as he could, as if he really were Sean Munroe and not Ianto Jones. At that moment he wished he were neither.

"He was fine last I saw him, sir," Ianto reported. The Doctor nodded but frowned. Ianto knew this was a different version of the Doctor because the man who had appeared at Canary Wharf had been a tall, lanky brown-haired man in trainers. From what Jack had told him, that particular Doctor had run roughshod over the feelings of many people, Jack included. This man appeared to sense something of Ianto's unease; perhaps this incarnation was a bit more in tune with people than the last.

"Something's wrong," the Doctor murmured, studying Ianto closely.

"Yes, sir," Ianto replied stiffly, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

"Are you really here to study cyber tech?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Ianto wanted nothing more than to grab it and run and face the consequences rather than face the Doctor.

"You were at Canary Wharf, weren't you?" the Doctor asked. When Ianto did not reply, the Doctor continued. "Jack told me you were there, that you lost someone special to the metal monsters you're studying down here."

"I did," Ianto replied flatly. "My girlfriend."

The Doctor gazed past him, eyes on the cyber headset. "I thought I lost someone too," he murmured. Then he glanced up and grinned. "Only she got sucked through the Void into a parallel universe. Doing well, last time I heard."

"How fortunate for you, sir," Ianto ground out. "However, if you don't mind, I'm trying to save the world at the moment."

"Are you now? Where's Jack then? He's usually involved in that sort of thing in one way or another."

"He's waiting for me to do my job, sir."

"Good," said the Doctor. "Tell him that I said hi. Never mind, I just saw him." When Ianto raised a skeptical eyebrow, the Doctor shrugged.

"Right," Ianto replied bitterly. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey, is that it?"

The Doctor clapped his hands in apparent glee. "Exactly! He's told you things, has he?"

"Not nearly as much as you'd think," Ianto murmured. He once again glanced down, turning over the cyber transmitter in his hand and wondering how he could escape the increasingly uncomfortable situation.

"No, he probably wouldn't share too much. He's had a hard life, Jack has. But oh, he talked about you. Sometimes he wouldn't shut up about you."

Ianto glanced up in surprise to find the Doctor watching him with an almost tender look on his face. "Oh yes. I know all about you, Ianto Jones."

"You're from the future, then?" asked Ianto, trying not to let his voice betray his nerves, his fears, his worries.

"Naturally," said the Doctor.

"And what are you doing here?" asked Ianto. "Are you here to help?"

"Help with what? I'm here to drop something off before returning to my regularly scheduled programme."

He reached into a coat pocket and took out something that looked exactly like Jack's vortex manipulator. Ianto bit back a gasp as the implications began to race by him far too fast to process.

"Is that Jack's?" he asked, not daring to believe it. It could solve so many problems, and Jack would be so glad to have it back…

"You are observant, aren't you?" asked the Doctor, beaming wide. "Yes, it's Jack's wrist strap. I was surprised he was able to part with it, to be honest, but he insisted I bring it here. On this day."

"What?" asked Ianto, suddenly confused. "He asked you to bring it to me?"

"No," the Doctor replied slowly. "He told me it needed to be in the Black Archive first thing this morning, donated to science or some other such nonsense." He chuckled. "I should have known there was something else going on."

"I don't understand," Ianto murmured, because he clearly didn't.

"Neither do I!" the Doctor exclaimed far too cheerfully. "But I'm guessing you need it, don't you? And so Jack sent me back to make sure you had it."

Ianto saw it immediately. "How did he know I needed it?"

"Because if he's waiting outside for you, he'll know you got it in the Black Archive. And if you tell him it was me who gave it to you—who cares about spoilers, anyway—then he'll know to give it to me in the future so I can bring it back to you in the past."

"So…" Ianto wrapped his brain around it as quickly as he could. "So I have to tell him I met you, then? Because otherwise this won't happen."

"Exactly!" the Doctor replied. "Timey-whimey."

"Basic causal loop," Ianto offered dryly. The Doctor held out the wrist strap. Ianto took it almost reverently.

"You sure you're with Jack?" he asked. "Because you strike me as far too clever to be with someone like him."

"He's a good man, you know," Ianto snapped, gazing at the manipulator. If it worked, it could get them back to Cardiff, but how did he ask, knowing what the Doctor had done to Jack's wrist strap in the past?

"I know," the Doctor replied, tucking his hands in his pockets. "Just like I know he likes you. So, Captain Munroe," he emphasized the fake name with a wink, and this time Ianto did roll his eyes, earning a delighted laugh from the Doctor. "What are you really doing here, looking at cyber tech? It can't be easy after Canary Wharf."

Ianto sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "I'm trying to stop a group of drug-addicted aliens from stealing one tenth of the earth's children to get high."

The Doctor froze in his place, his easy-going countenance disappearing immediately. "No," he stated, and his voice was strained.

"Do you about them? Or what happened?" Ianto asked. "Because we haven't got long and we have to stop them."

"I don't know anything about them, no," said the Doctor, and Ianto wasn't sure whether he was telling the truth or a very, very good liar. "And even if I did, I couldn't help you. Timelines, you know."

"You've already spoiled this one," Ianto pointed out. The Doctor shook his head.

"No, because Jack obviously knew you got the wrist strap from me, which was why he told me to come back and bring it here. If he hadn't, then we'd be in trouble." The Doctor narrowed his eyes at Ianto. "He did not tell me about these aliens, however. What's going on?"

To his surprise, Ianto found himself telling the Doctor everything that had happened over the past five days, including their desperate plan to use the cyber transmitter to send the signal that had killed Clement MacDonald back at the 456. The Doctor grew more and more agitated as Ianto told him the story.

"You must be insane!" he finally exclaimed, and Ianto could only nod in agreement.

"That's Torchwood," he replied, thinking it was true. Every single one of their plans had been a disaster waiting to happen, and most had only succeeded through sheer dumb luck.

The Doctor started pacing. "I mean, it makes sense, in theory—the cyber transmitter working through organic matter to reach the aliens in orbit, but implanting it…" He shook his head and stepped close, lowering his voice. "Ianto, I honestly don't know what would happen, even to Jack."

"I know," Ianto replied, relieved that someone agreed with him. "He could become an immortal cyborg, trapped in steel forever."

The Doctor looked genuinely horrified. "No, absolutely not. You can't let him do it."

"I offered myself," Ianto replied. The Doctor threw up his hands in disgust.

"Well that's even worse, Captain  _Munroe_ ," he replied, scorn dripping from his lips. "There's no way to untangle one of those things, not for thousands of years. You would be converted and killed."

"If it works, it's worth it," Ianto replied stubbornly. "Look, you didn't know anything about this until I told you. I'd like to think ten percent of the world's children disappearing would have made the history books."

"Oh, you'd be surprised at what's left out. Victors tell the story, and all that." The Doctor stopped pacing and stared at the cyber headset nearby. "But you're right, I've not heard of this, and I'm sure I would have."

"So we must succeed, somehow," pressed Ianto. He was closing in on a point, but it was just beyond his reach.

"It could have been covered up," the Doctor pointed out. Ianto snorted, and the Doctor gave him a funny look.

"I find that hard to believe. There's no way to cover up so many children simply disappearing. It makes more sense that we won, that we defeated them. As the transmitter is our only option at the moment, we need to try it. You've already admitted to meeting Jack in the future, which must mean he wasn't converted."

"Or he survived relatively unscathed," the Doctor pointed out. "If he was converted at some point, he's never told me."

"But he has told you about me, probably in the past tense, correct?"

The Doctor frowned. "Not necessarily," he hedged. Ianto shook his head, determined to have an answer.

"I need to know."

"Spoilers," the Doctor replied. Ianto growled at him.

"You just said they don't matter!"

"Not when they're closing a time loop!" the Doctor shot back. "This is not a time loop."

"So did Jack talk about me in the present tense?" He paused when the Doctor looked surprised. "Oh, on the Valiant? I'm aware of that, you know. What happened to him…not everything, but enough."

"Good man," murmured the Doctor, and Ianto wasn't sure whether he was referring to Jack or him. "Look, Ianto, I really can't say anything. Not about this."

"Why?" Ianto demanded. "If you tell me what happened, won't it simply assure that it happens the way it's meant to happen?"

The Doctor looked at him slightly wide-eyed. "Well, sometimes, I suppose…"

"So do I die today or does Jack? Who takes the implant? Tell me, Doctor!"

"I can't!" he shouted back. "I honestly don't know! Jack's never mentioned it, and I had no idea this ever happened. It was difficult enough getting here, the whole week is covered in a sort of temporal fog…it must be a fixed point in time."

Ianto's lip curled into a sneer. "You mean, like Jack."

"Yes, like Jack." When the Doctor appeared unable to meet Ianto's eyes, as if he were ashamed, Ianto lost it. This was the man who had made Jack the way he was—or rather, it was because of him that Jack was immortal, because of the Doctor and his ship. And then he'd abandoned Jack, left him waiting for answers for over a century. All of a sudden Ianto's pent up anger and frustration burst forth, but it came out in one cold dismissal.

"Thank you for your lack of faith, Doctor. I should have expected it, but I'm still disappointed. I'll take it from here. With Jack." And he turned his back on the man who had once been Torchwood's number one enemy, yet who had saved the planet countless times already; who had been Jack's idol, yet had treated him so reprehensibly. Ianto sat down at the table and began writing again, ignoring the way his hands were shaking until he finally had to drop the pen and flex his fingers.

"You know you don't have to do that," the Doctor said softly behind him. "Take notes."

Ianto's head fell forward in frustration. "I have to present them when I leave. It's part of the plan, since it's the only way to remember what I studied and share it with my superiors."

To his annoyance, the Doctor sat down across from him. "And how were you planning on sneaking out that transmitter then?" Ianto glanced up in surprise. "Of course you are. You can't possibly take enough notes to recreate it. It's not possible in this time. So you intend to use this one, right here." He picked it up and waved it about. "Going to stick it under your cap, then?"

Ianto couldn't help but let his lips quirk as he thought about Jack saying the same thing. "It was suggested, yeah."

"Not going to work," the Doctor replied. "But I can help you."

Ianto leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought this was a fixed point in time. No interference."

"Your thing with the aliens, yes. Getting you out of the archives…probably not." He didn't look entirely convinced, however.

"Probably not?" Ianto questioned. "As in helping me right now  _probably_  won't create a paradox that rips apart space and time?"

The Doctor waved his hand. "That is such an exaggeration. Only amateurs believe the universe will implode from one tiny little paradox. The cosmos takes care of itself, you know."

"You mean Reapers," Ianto replied, remembering something Jack had once mentioned when they'd had to avoid themselves for several hours after John Hart had left them. The Doctor positively beamed.

"Clever boy! They're the immune system of the multiverse. So if I'm not meant to help you right now, then—"

"Then a great black winged monster will devour us. Fantastic." Ianto put his head in his hands and groaned. What did Jack see in this man?

"That's my line, you know," the Doctor said. "Fantastic."

"I was being sarcastic," Ianto replied.

"I thought so," said the Doctor. He leaned forward on the table. "Look, you don't like me. I get it. Half the planetary systems in this galaxy cluster don't like me. The other half worship me as a fertility god, but that's another story. My point is, let me help you anyway."

Ianto sighed. Jack had said much the same thing at the safe house. Now Jack's vaunted Doctor was offering to help as well. It was difficult, accepting the offer from the very being who had cursed Jack, who had abandoned Jack and said such horrible things to him. Yet if the Doctor could help him escape with the transmitter, then Ianto needed to put aside his personal feelings and accept.

"How?" he asked.

The Doctor glanced around. "Well, my ship is somewhere around here. I could take you to Jack. I could take you both wherever and whenever you need to go."

"That won't work," Ianto replied, shaking his head in disappointment. Was this Doctor really so naïve? "They'll come looking for me—well, for Captain Munroe—and when he's found to be missing along with the artifact there will be a manhunt. I've already got enough people trying to kill me, thank you very much." He paused and couldn't resist a parting shot. "I'm also aware of your proclivity for missing your target date."

The Doctor frowned. "I'm getting better. But you want to make it tricky." He seemed to be thinking, then waggled his eyebrows. "I think I have it. I can disguise the transmitter so no one notices it even though it's right there in front of them. I have a device, a—"

"Perception filter?" Ianto drawled. He'd left his with Jack in case of an emergency (and Jack had vehemently protested, but Ianto had won out since Jack was the one sitting out in the open in a café), but now he half wished he could pull it out just to see the look on the Doctor's face.

"You're much too smart for Jack. I bet you keep him on his toes," the Doctor murmured. "Yes, a perception filter. No one will suspect you're carrying it because it won't even occur to them that you might be carrying it."

"Torchwood was trained to recognize things like that," Ianto pointed out. "What about UNIT?"

"Dunno," the Doctor shrugged. "I doubt it. I've not shared that little bit with them. Not sure how Torchwood figured it out."

"What about the empty case, then?" Ianto wanted to be sure this man was thinking through his plan. If he and Jack got on well it could only mean they both enjoyed running in with half a plan and hoping the other half magically appeared.

"I'll leave a piece of psychic paper behind letting everyone know it's been loaned to the Doctor. No one will question it, we get along, UNIT and I."

"Naturally," Ianto murmured, shaking his head. He took a breath, his chest feeling tight again. It was also growing warmer. The medication was definitely wearing off now, and Ianto felt the weariness that had been plaguing him since Thames House in his bones.

"Any objections?"

"Any number, but I suppose I'll have to trust you," Ianto replied. He closed his notes and stood. "I'd prefer to get this over with, if you don't mind. Planet to save and all that."

"You are a dry one," the Doctor replied, jumping up. "Maybe you need to get off this planet, travel a bit. See the universe." He pulled a square piece of paper from his pocket, looked at it rather intently, then placed it in the case where the transmitter had been. Ianto walked over to look at it, the achiness he'd felt earlier returning in waves.

"It's blank," he pointed out, and earned himself an eye roll from the Doctor.

"Because you know what it is. If you didn't, you'd see my note. All right, that takes care of that. Here's the filter for your transmitter." He reached into another pocket and pulled out a key on a string. "Wrap it around the transmitter. Then give it to Jack, he'll get it back to me someday."

"It's a key," Ianto pointed out rather stupidly.

"Not your brightest observation," the Doctor offered.

"Do you have another?" Ianto asked.

"There's the clever wit!" Once again Ianto was blinded by the manic grin. He couldn't wait to be rid of this man. Maybe it was down to stress and illness, but the Doctor grated on Ianto's nerves with his sudden twists and turns, and he wondered if the incarnation Jack had traveled with was similar, or a bit more stable. Then again, Jack's own moods changed with the wind, so perhaps it was no surprise that Jack had gravitated to such a personality. He'd probably adore this incarnation, then.

"Yes, I have another key," the Doctor was saying. "It's for my ship, but she'd let me in anyway, I'm sure." The Doctor glanced around and clapped his hands together. "All right, Mr. Jones—I mean, Captain Munroe. I should probably turn the cameras back on and let you get going. Ready to save the world?"

Ianto stood straighter, feeling the weight of both his tasks settle grimly. He was about to steal classified technology from the British government. "Yes, sir. And thank you."

"You're welcome. Just make sure to get that vortex manipulator to Jack so he can get it to me so I can get it to you."

"Once I figure out what you just said, I'll be sure to do it," Ianto replied.

"Clever, dry, and snarky. Jack is a lucky man."

Ianto rolled his eyes again with an inarticulate huff. "You keep saying things like that, about Jack. Like we're a couple or something."

"Aren't you?" asked the Doctor, a suspiciously knowing look on his face.

"No," Ianto replied bluntly. "I left Torchwood ten months ago."

"Ah," said the Doctor. "That…yes, I remember that. Oh, Mr. Jones. So many spoilers."

"I'm starting to hate that word," Ianto muttered.

"I did too, once," laughed the Doctor. He held out his hand and Ianto reluctantly took it, shaking hands with one of the oldest, most powerful beings in the universe. It was a bit underwhelming, to be honest. He certainly wasn't the dangerous threat to humanity Torchwood One had drummed into its employees, and Ianto suspected the man wasn't even the threat to his relationship with Jack that Ianto had once believed. As he let go of the Doctor's hand, he remembered something about the wrist strap he held in the other.

"Does it work?" he asked, not sure what answer he wanted. "The teleporter? Does it work, or did you disable it?" He started to buckle it onto his wrist, hoping to hide it under the sleeve of his uniform. It felt familiar yet also uncomfortable. He'd never worn it before, given that Jack was so possessive of it. Of course, Jack had lost it when the Hub had been bombed; Ianto vaguely wondered how he'd got it back, or if Jack had found a new one somewhere in the future to hand off to the Doctor.

The Doctor was glancing at the wrist strap. "Jack said he needed it to work, one trip only."

"To where?" Ianto demanded. It was probably to another planet, maybe another galaxy, perhaps another time.

"One jump to Cardiff," the Doctor replied, watching Ianto closely, as if reading his thoughts.

Ianto felt all the tension drain from his body, to the point where he grabbed the top of the chair beside him to stay upright. He nodded, unable to speak through his relief. The Doctor placed a warm hand on his shoulder.

"He came back for you, Ianto. Always remember that. For you."

More deep breaths. Why was breathing so hard? Maybe there was less oxygen underground. Gathering his scattered thoughts and feelings, Ianto stood straight once more. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

The Doctor nodded as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver. "Good luck with these aliens. Perhaps we'll meet again sometime when it's all over."

"Know that for sure?" Ianto asked, then turned and walked away with a small smile on his face. "Never mind. Spoilers."

"Clever boy!" the Doctor called after him. Ianto blew out a breath and hurried back toward the main entrance. Dr. Stewart was there, whether by coincidence or because she was waiting for him, Ianto wasn't sure. Glancing behind him, Ianto wondered if anyone was even aware that the Doctor had been in the archive. Stewart seemed completely oblivious. He handed her the file she'd given him as well as his notes, and waited patiently while she read through them.

"They look fine," she said, placing them in the required sealed envelope. "You're free to go once the machine has cleared your memories."

She didn't notice the slight bulge on his wrist under his uniform jacket, nor the larger one in his pocket where the transmitter was hidden. Ianto refused to relax, however, as he knew he was far from safe.

"Thank you," he replied courteously, then glanced around, as if he were nervous. "How does the memory wipe work, exactly?"

Stewart motioned upward to the ceiling. "We'll only wipe your memories to the moment you walked in. It's for security. Some of these items are too classified to even exist."

"I understand," he said, then lowered his voice. "I suppose what I meant was…does it hurt?"

"You won't feel a thing," she assured him. "And you won't remember either."

"Right." He nodded. "I'm ready, then."

The wipe hadn't changed since his own time in the archives, and just as it had then, it failed now. Ianto had seen enough people come through it, however, to recognize them when it was over, so he played at feeling slightly dazed and confused. Dr. Stewart took his arm and guided him out.

"Here you are, Captain Munroe," she said as they left the archive completely. She handed him his notes. "You compiled these inside. I do hope they help."

He glanced down at the papers and frowned. "Oh. Right. So it's over then?"

"Yes, sir, it is," she said.

"Er, what time is it?" he asked, and she nodded in understanding.

"Almost half eight, sir. You've only lost about an hour."

"Right. Thank you again, ma'am," Ianto said. He considered saluting but decided against it, instead making himself walk somewhat unsteadily toward the lift. He kept up the pretense, turning the wrong way when he exited. A soldier caught his troubled look.

"Black Archives, sir?" he asked. Ianto nodded.

"Yes, private. Point me toward the exit?"

The soldier walked him out, and Ianto breathed in the fresh air, hoping it would clear his head. He had kept all his memories, but that didn't mean he wasn't confused as hell and physically feeling more miserable by the minute. He needed to find Jack. They could jump to Cardiff, get the transmitter to Flat Holm…and then what?

The Doctor had refused to disclose enough information about the future for Ianto to know what to do next. Apparently Jack was unscathed in the future, or at least able to find the Doctor and hand off his wrist strap, but was that because Ianto had taken the implant and died, or because Jack had taken it, died, and come back to life with no sign of it? It was a horrible decision to have to make, which Ianto felt might be complicated by his worsening physical state. Each step forward was becoming harder and harder, and he wasn't sure he'd make it to the café where he'd agreed to meet Jack.

Knowing that if he slowed or stopped, he'd never get there, Ianto forced himself to walk as quickly as he could. He found Jack in a back corner, nursing what appeared to be his third cup of coffee. His feet were tapping and his hands were twitching, and he jumped up when he saw Ianto. Ianto, however, collapsed into the seat across from him and reached for Jack's Styrofoam cup.

"Everything go as planned?" Jack asked, watching him warily as he sat back down. "You're back sooner than I expected."

Ianto nodded and reached for Jack's water glass as well.

"Are you all right?" Jack leaned closer, studying him with clear concern. "You don't look so good."

"And here I thought you liked the uniform," Ianto replied. Jack shook his head, not rising to the joke.

"You look pale, tired, and a bit ragged around the edges. What happened in there?"

"I had help," Ianto replied. And then suddenly it occurred to him that he was about to tell Jack that he'd met the Doctor, and Ianto dropped his head to the table and laughed. "I can't believe I just walked out of there with it."

"From who?" Jack demanded. Ianto laughed a bit more. Jack reached for his arm, fingers closing around the wrist strap. He froze. "What's this?" he whispered, his voice tight with disbelief.

Ianto glanced around; the café was mostly empty, so he carefully rolled up his sleeve and showed Jack the wrist strap. Jack stared at him in shock.

"What the hell happened in there?" he asked, and Ianto could only shake his head in wonder as he dropped the bombshell.

"I met the Doctor."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Did it surprise? I sort of surprised myself with this one! I had something completely different in mind for the Black Archive—a big shoot-out with Johnson involving Gwen and Rhys—but that evolved into the battle at The Starry Night. So I thought I'd probably just skim over the Black Archive, letting Ianto sneak in and out on his own, only I was unexpectedly struck by a vision of Ianto meeting the Doctor there and had to run with it. After suggesting it to my beta, I literally wrote this in less than two days, squealing with excitement the entire time. I loved being able to explore the Doctor's absence a bit, as well as tie in some larger Whoniverse details. I hope you enjoyed it. Any thoughts? It's nice to know if anyone is reading it here. Many thanks to Taamar for her support of my crazy ideas. The next chapter gets them back to Cardiff and sets up the endgame with the 456.


	18. Day Five - Jack Again

Day Five - Jack again

"I met the Doctor."

Ianto had always enjoyed surprising Jack—knowing something he didn't know, guessing his thoughts, doing something unexpected (often in bed), even sneaking up on him in the Hub. Jack had usually enjoyed it as well, Ianto's cleverness and keen sense of timing never failing to amaze him. This time Jack was too dumbfounded to even respond. Ianto had met the Doctor? When? How? Ianto must have sensed his confusion, and moved quickly to unbuckle the wrist strap and explain.

"He came to the Black Archive to drop this off," he said, handing Jack the wrist strap. Jack ran his hand over it, caressing it tenderly, hardly believing it was real. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone so long without it. Ianto was speaking, however, and Jack forced himself to focus on the man across from him, not the relief warring with confusion in his chest. "He said you'd told him to bring it to the Archive on this day, so he did. He gave it to me so I could give it to you—"

"So I could give it to him to bring back and give to you," Jack murmured, understanding immediately. "Basic time loop."

"Right."

"But why?" Jack asked, trying to figure out why he'd given (would give) his wrist strap to the Doctor, why the Doctor had brought it back, and why he hadn't come straight to Jack. He placed the strap on his wrist, flexed his fingers, and smiled at Ianto. "Thank you, by the way."

Ianto nodded in understanding. "You're welcome."

"So what reason did I give him…or _will_ I give him…to bring it to the Archives on this day?" asked Jack.

"There are two reasons, I suspect," Ianto replied. He held back a cough, stretching his neck as if the illness he'd been fighting since waking was growing worse. Jack felt a flash of concern, and he opened his mouth to ask after Ianto's health again, but stopped when Ianto's eyes clearly told him not to say anything. Ianto acknowledged his restraint gratefully.

"First of all, the Doctor helped me get the transmitter out of the Archive. He gave me this to disguise it." Ianto took out a familiar key and handed it to Jack. Once again Jack was speechless as he stroked the simple key on a string and remembered the last time he'd worn it. On the run, hiding, dying…not unlike their current situation, only minus the insane Time Lord. Shaking his head of the memories, Jack spoke quietly.

"It's a key to—"

"—to his ship, yeah." Ianto nodded and laughed at himself. "I asked if he had another."

Jack grinned as he slipped the key into his pocket. "Of course you did. Because only you think of things like that. So you got it out using the perception filter in the key."

"Yes, though I'm not sure he approves of our using the transmitter." Ianto frowned and shook his head. "He said it was barbaric. He's right, of course."

"It's our only option," Jack replied sharply. "Unless he had another suggestion?"

Ianto sighed and looked down at his hands. "No. He said he couldn't interfere with the 456. Something about a fixed point."

"Of course it is," Jack replied, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "All those other times he helped…Cybermen, Daleks, Silurians, Sontarans…and when a group of drug-addled aliens shows up to kidnap millions of children he goes all Time Lord." Jack sighed and shook his head in frustration. In theory, he understood the Doctor's reasons; in reality, it was maddening to know there was no help coming from the Time Lord who claimed to protect the planet as his own. "Sorry. He's like that sometimes, and it's infuriating. He takes the moral high road but doesn't always have another route for the rest of us."

"I could see that," Ianto agreed. "Although I can't imagine him not helping if it wasn't a question of …well, timey-whimeyness, for lack of a better word."

"Did he actually say that?" Jack teased. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"No, I figured it out for myself. But Jack, I don't think he was _your_ Doctor…he looked different than the man at Canary Wharf. A bit younger, bigger ears, bowtie and a fez…" Ianto trailed off as Jack burst into laughter. He could only imagine what the Doctor was thinking about his ears.

"Another regeneration, then? I'm glad you mentioned it. That means I have to wait for the fez-wearing Doctor before I hand over my wrist strap, or this moment won't ever happen."

Ianto nodded and let his eyes slip closed. His shoulders sagged as the adrenaline from his foray into the Archives started to wear off. Jack reached over and took his hand.

"Hey, you all right?" he asked, even if Ianto didn't want to hear it. It was obvious the other man was feeling worse. "Need more coffee?"

Ianto offered him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, only it worried Jack even more for all the effort it took. "Too much to do. We need to get the transmitter back to Martha."

"Right. Let's go." Jack stood and motioned Ianto ahead of him. "Martha called a little while ago. She said Gwen's contact at Thames House called them. They're going through with it."

Ianto stopped so suddenly Jack bumped into him. "What?" he asked. "How?"

"The government is going to begin gathering the children today. They brought in the military."

"Oh my god," Ianto whispered, swaying slightly on the spot. He met Jack's eyes with a devastated look. "Is it horrible of me to be glad my family is in hiding? I can't imagine what others are going through."

Jack had thought the exact same thing, offering silent thanks to Bryan Wells the moment Martha had told him the news. He couldn't imagine watching Steven being sacrificed as alien bounty. Knowing that so many other children were about to suffer the same fate as the young boy they'd tried to rescue moved Jack to work harder. He would do anything to stop this.

"We'll stop them," he reassured Ianto, wrapping an arm around his waist and leading him out. "But we've got to move fast, so I've been thinking about how we're going to get back to Cardiff—" Ianto stopped him.

"Already taken care of," he said. "That was the other thing the Doctor helped us with."

"I can't wait to hear about it," Jack muttered. He hated to admit it, but he was envious of Ianto, that he had met another regeneration. The Doctor had been right there, in London, as Jack had sat in a café drinking coffee, and he'd not even said hello. Jack grumbled to himself and began to walk toward the Tube station, but Ianto steered him away from the crowds and toward the back of the café instead. A funny thought tickled the edge of Jack's mind.

"Actually, I'm not sure you'll like it," Ianto replied quietly. When they had hidden themselves from the morning crowds, he motioned Jack to raise his arm. "He said you asked him for one trip. By teleport."

Jack glanced down and then at Ianto, his suspicions confirmed. "Cardiff, I expect?" he asked. "Flat Holm?"

"Not sure where exactly, but Cardiff, yes. Buys us a few hours." Ianto seemed to be anticipating Jack's disappointment, that the Doctor had only given them the one trip. Jack had told him how the Doctor had disabled his wrist strap the first time he'd returned, but Ianto didn't know the Doctor had done it again after the Daleks had moved the earth. The lack of faith on the Doctor's part, that Jack couldn't be trusted to muck about in time, had hurt and angered him both times.

"All right." Jack unclenched his jaw and forced himself to accept what was in reality a tremendous break for them. "It's better than nothing, and a lot more than he sometimes offers. Are you ready for your first teleport?"

"Not really," Ianto replied wearily "But I don't have a choice, do I? We need to get back to Flat Holm and see if this works before the children are taken off world."

"It'll work," said Jack. "Because otherwise why would I send the Doctor back with my wrist strap?"

"That's what I said!" Ianto exclaimed. "But he said it doesn't necessarily mean things turned out how we'd expect. It could be simply preserving the timeline."

"Not if you—" He stopped, refusing to think about the possibilities for disaster. "Never mind. Not going to happen. Ready?"

Ianto nodded and closed his eyes. Jack knew the other man was feeling ill because he could see the fear and anxiety on Ianto's face. Taking Ianto's arm in support, Jack hit the button and felt that familiar tug in his gut as he was whisked through time and space, then a hard thump as he fell to his knees, trying to support Ianto as he collapsed. Ianto immediately curled in on himself and vomited, his stomach spasming violently, and then fell to his side, groaning.

"Shit," said Jack, kneeling next to him and helping him sit. Ianto was shivering violently, and Jack wrapped his coat around the other man to keep him warm. "We need to get you inside. First times can be rough, but you're sick so I think it's hitting you worse."

"You mean, you didn't feel like you were turned inside out and upside down the first time you used it?" Ianto replied. He stood on shaky legs, and Jack put an arm around his shoulder. Glancing around, he saw that they were in a sheltered cove on Flat Holm. They hobbled slowly toward the bunker where the rest of the team waited, Jack's concern for Ianto growing stronger by the moment.

"It wasn't pleasant, but I didn't puke my guts out, no," said Jack. "I think you'd have done much better if you weren't already run down." He paused for a moment. "It's too bad we can't try it again."

Ianto was silent, either unsure what to say or unable to speak through his discomfort. They made their way to the bunker and punched in the code that would get them inside. To their surprise, Gwen and Rhys came running up to meet them. Gwen went immediately to Ianto.

"What happened?" she demanded as she ran her hands over his arms, trying to see if he was injured. "And how the hell did you get here so quickly?"

"Teleport," said Ianto. "On both accounts."

She frowned at him, obviously confused as she ushered them both inside. "Martha and Mickey are still working out how to use the transmitter. We thought we'd have several hours before you got out of the Archive and drove back here."

"We had some unexpected help," said Jack. He tried to hide his frustration, but knew he'd failed when Ianto gave him a withering look that Gwen clearly noticed. She also saw something else.

"Jack, how did you get your wrist strap back?" she asked. Jack moved toward Ianto and shooed her away, then led them toward the infirmary, his arm firmly supporting Ianto.

"A friend found it," he told Gwen, leaving the rest of the story for another time. "And gave us a one-way trip back here so we can kick this thing's arse."

"So you've got the doo-hickey?" asked Rhys. "The thing you went in there for?"

Ianto pulled the cyber transmitter from his pocket and handed it to Gwen, looking more than happy to be rid of it. "Piece of cake. Take it to Martha and Mickey so they can get started on it."

"Ianto Jones, you're brilliant, but you'd better not still be thinking about—" she started, gearing up for what would likely be another epic argument.

He waved her off. "I'm not fighting with a pregnant woman. Take it away, I need painkillers and coffee first."

Gwen stopped. "Were you hurt?" she demanded.

Ianto shook his head as Jack answered for him. "He's sick. Tired, achy, cough, fever. I need to get him to Dr. Tomlinson."

Gwen swore and laid a hand on Ianto's forehead. He must have been burning up because she took it away quickly and exchanged a frightened glance with her husband.

"Do you think—" Rhys started, but she stopped him.

"Rhys, no."

"What?" Jack asked sharply. "What's going on? Tell me."

"You should talk to Martha first, Jack," Gwen said.

Jack sighed in frustration. It couldn't be good news if Gwen was hiding something and fobbing it off on Martha.

"Please, Gwen," Ianto said before Jack could rail at Gwen for keeping secrets. "What's going on?"

Her eyes welled up with tears, and Rhys stepped forward to speak for her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We just saw it on the news, mate. A lot of people are in hospital with some sort of virus, bit like the flu. It started overnight, in London."

Ianto shrugged, trying to put on a positive face. "I thought it might be the flu. So, I've joined the masses. Why the long face?"

"It's dozens of people, sweetheart," said Gwen, still staring at him. "Overnight, just like that. Doctors don't know what it is yet or how to treat it. And…some are dying within hours of onset. It's striking too fast and too hard."

"Oh." Next to him, Jack swore and began dragging Ianto to the infirmary as fast as he could, ordering Gwen and Rhys to take the transmitter to Martha and Mickey. Behind him, Gwen sighed heavily, but did not follow.

"Don't think about it," Jack growled as Ianto's legs buckled beneath him. "You're not going to die, not now."

"I'd rather not," said Ianto, his voice tired and weak. "Not after all this. I'd like to see it through."

"Then don't think about it," Jack repeated. "You'll be fine. We'll figure it out."

"We have other things to figure out," Ianto replied, his eyes slipping closed. "A sudden flu epidemic is rubbish timing, but sort of outside the scope of the issue at the moment."

Jack froze in his tracks, his mouth falling open as the implication of Ianto's words hit him hard. He stared at Ianto in horror, hoping he was wrong but knowing he was right. It was too terrible to imagine, and yet it couldn't be anything else.

"What is it?" Ianto asked. Jack shook his head, unable to answer as he tried to wrap his mind around it and what to do. "Jack! Get a grip and tell me what's wrong!"

"It's the 456," Jack whispered. He heard the fear in his voice and took a deep breath to calm himself. "They said that action had been taken. This is it. This is the action."

"Giving us the flu?" Ianto replied, sounding skeptical. "We have had the flu before, you know."

Jack gripped him by both shoulders. "But not this one! I'd bet the royal jewels that this is a mutated form of the Indonesian flu…the one they warned us against in 1965!" It made perfect sense, and the warning from decades ago raced through his mind…millions dead…

"But that means…" Ianto was obviously trying to pull his foggy thoughts together. "Didn't you make the deal to get the anti-virus for that strain?"

"Yes," Jack replied, nodding slowly. "But it can't be a coincidence, can it? That the very virus they warned us about forty-five years ago suddenly reappears now? These guys don't strike me as particularly clever."

"Why would they want to kill us now, when the government is giving in to their demands?" Ianto asked, and Jack shrugged.

"Because we stood up to them? Killed one of their own? I don't know."

"Or," Ianto started slowly, "maybe they recognize that killing a large majority of the human population is detrimental to the reproductive efforts of the species, thus denying them their child-based chemical high, and that's not their endgame."

"So they're using the virus we already have the cure for as a scare tactic," Jack stated with a nod. "Makes sense. They knew we'd figure it out eventually, but it's another incentive to cooperate if we know they can sicken thousands at the drop of a hat."

"So you've figured it out…now what?" asked Ianto. He motioned them forward from where they'd stopped in the middle of the corridor, needing to get to the infirmary. "Was the anti-virus ever manufactured? Tested? Used?"

"I don't know," said Jack. It was frustrating, looking back at his past and knowing so little. "It was all swept neatly under the rug. I told you, I wasn't a good person back then…they paid me off, and I forgot all about it. It wasn't my concern. Until now."

"Until now," Ianto echoed. "Look, you need to tell someone, someone in Thames House who knows what happened in 1965 and can find the formula for that anti-virus."

"But—" started Jack. Ianto shook his head.

"You're the only one, Jack," said Ianto. He sounded weary, worn out, and defeated. "You need to call Frobisher."

"I need to be with you," Jack insisted, even though he knew Ianto was right. He hated the thought of having to call John Frobisher, yet he was the man who had tried to cover it all up, which meant he was the one most likely to know how to find the anti-virus.

They entered the small room that doubled as the infirmary for the patients and staff of Flat Holm. Dr. Tomlinson came out from his office immediately, and before he could say a word, Ianto threw himself down on one of the beds and closed his eyes. Jack frowned at Ianto, running a hand across his clammy forehead as Dr. Tomlinson raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Is this what's been going around in London?" the doctor asked. "The BBC said dozens were admitted to hospital overnight, all with similar symptoms."

"I think it's a mutant variation of the Indonesian flu," Jack told him, more certain than ever that he was correct. "I know of an anti-virus, but I have to make some calls. Can you start regular antivirals here?"

The doctor nodded and moved away to gather what he needed. He'd worked with Jack long enough to trust him, and Jack appreciated that. He took Ianto's hand. "I'm going to call Frobisher and then check in with Martha, all right? You rest. You need to fight this thing, hang on until we can get the anti-virus." Jack couldn't do this without him.

Ianto nodded, then opened his eyes and pulled Jack close. "It should be me," he said, his voice quiet. "Now more than ever, it should be me. I'd rather die saving the children than wasting away from a case of alien sniffles."

Jack tried to laugh at Ianto's attempt at levity, but it came out as more of a sob. "It's not alien, it's just an old virus back in style. And you're not going to die, not today."

"What about the—" Ianto started, but Jack stopped him.

"We don't even know if it'll be necessary to implant the transmitter," he said, but he felt as if he were trying to convince himself. He knew deep down there was no way to make the transmitter work otherwise. "And if it is, you might be too weak for it to work."

"That's low," Ianto growled, trying to sit up. "Don't try to protect me, Jack. I can make my own decisions, and I—" He had to stop as a sudden coughing fit took his breath away. The doctor reappeared with a needle, several pills, and some water.

"Make your calls, Captain," he said, helping Ianto to lie down once more. "Let me take care of my patient, starting with keeping him calm."

Jack leaned down and kissed Ianto on the forehead. "Do as he says. I'll be back."

"Don't do anything without me, Jack!" Ianto called as Jack turned to leave the room. "I want to be there. I have to be there, especially if you—"

"I know," said Jack. He'd feel the same way if their positions were reversed, and if he was honest, Ianto was the only person he trusted to do what might be necessary if something went wrong. Jack nodded and forced a smile. "I'll check on you in a bit, let you know what's happening."

"I'll hold you to it," said Ianto. The doctor shooed Jack from the room and began setting Ianto up for monitoring. Jack left, but stopped outside the door to lean against the wall, his heart racing. His legs buckled until he was sitting on the floor with his head against his knees. Ianto was dying while the government was rounding up thousands of children to pay an alien ransom. Jack had faced some dark times with Torchwood, but this was one of the worst. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt more helpless or hopeless. Even while held prisoner with the Doctor on board the Valiant, Jack had held fast to his hope that Martha was free and the Doctor was working on a plan.

But now the Doctor couldn't help him, Ianto was deathly ill, and Jack felt more alone than ever. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that he couldn't give up. Not for Ianto, and not for the children. He still had the ability to do something, starting with getting that anti-virus back in the game. Then the transmitter.

Determined to do everything he could until he could do no more, Jack stood, pulled out his mobile phone, and dialed John Frobisher. It was time to save the world, starting with Ianto Jones.

* * *

 

John Frobisher did not sound good.

It was obvious he was sick with the same virus that had struck Ianto, but more than that, Jack heard the same desperate hopelessness in the man's voice that he had just felt and buried himself. John Frobisher was as alone in this as Jack, and Jack felt the tiniest sliver of sympathy for the man who had been trying to kill him all week…which he also set aside, because only ruthless expedience would get him what he needed.

Frobisher was hesitant to believe him, until Jack pointed out that the man had nothing to lose by tracking down the anti-virus from 1965, and everything to gain. Jack demanded access to the anti-virus in return, but Frobisher laughed hollowly.

"I can't promise you anything," he said, coughing into his phone. "I'll probably be dead by the time it's found."

"Then find it faster!" Jack snapped. "I've got sick people here, and we're the only ones who can stop this. So we need that anti-virus immediately."

"You can't stop them," Frobisher replied. "Not the 456, not the government, not the soldiers working for the government. By this time tomorrow it'll all be over."

"I'll end it before then and rip that anti-virus from whatever cold, dead hands I find left behind at Whitehall. Get a grip, Frobisher. You're supposed to be in charge!"

Frobisher cursed, Jack cursed back, and the line disconnected. Jack was tempted to throw the phone against the wall, but took a deep breath and went to find the others.

Gwen and Rhys were standing back while Mickey and Martha studied the cyber transmitter. Jack nodded at them before motioning Gwen out of the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly when they stepped into the hallway. "Is it Ianto?"

Jack let out a shaky sigh and nodded. "It's bad. I think I know what's going on."

"With the 456?" she asked in confusion, and he shook his head.

"With the virus," he told her. "I think it's the same virus from 1965, the one they threatened us with, the one we bought safety from with the original children."

"Oh my god," she whispered. "What can we do?"

"That's just it," he said. " _We_ can't do anything. It was almost fifty years ago and even then I had no idea what happened to the information they transmitted. But someone else must. It's out there somewhere."

"Then we have to find it! Thousands could die!" Gwen exclaimed, then stopped. "But the children…we have to stop the 456 first. Only Ianto needs…" She trailed off as she realized the implications. "Oh, Jack. I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be," Jack growled. "We can do this. I've called Frobisher and told him what he needs to do. He's sick, though, so whether or not he does it remains to be seen. He'd be a fool not to; it's his own life on the line as much as the rest of the world."

"What do you need me to do?" Gwen asked, and Jack pulled her into an embrace, as much to thank her for her understanding as to draw support from her strength.

"I need you to call your contact, the one in the Home Office. Even if Frobisher tracks down the anti-virus, I have little faith that he'll share it with us. But if she can get us anything—information, code, a sample, a name—then we have a fighting chance."

"I'll call her right away," Gwen said. She stepped back and straightened Jack's shirt before meeting his eyes. "He'll be all right, Jack. We can do this."

"I know we can," Jack replied. "I only hope we can do it before it's too late. I—" He swallowed thickly and glanced away from Gwen's look of empathy. "I don't think I can lose him again, not like this."

"You won't," she replied. "I'll call Lois, you go to Ianto."

"I need to talk to Martha and Mickey," Jack replied.

"They've only started looking at the transmitter, Jack," said Gwen. "Go and be with Ianto for a few minutes." The unspoken _'While you can'_ hung heavy in the air.

"I'll check on him, then I'm coming back to get this show started," Jack said. "We end this today."

Gwen kissed him on the cheek and left to call her contact. Jack turned and went back to the small infirmary, where he found Ianto asleep in bed. The doctor was taking notes and looked up as Jack returned.

"I've started anti-virals," he said softly. "Fluids, painkillers, the usual. But if this strain is really as virulent as the early reports from London, we'll need that anti-virus, and not only for Mr. Jones."

"I've already made some calls," Jack replied.

"Good. I'd like to keep him quarantined to your rooms, minimize contact with the residents. I assume you're not at risk?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. Dr. Tomlinson didn't know all of Jack's secrets, but he was aware of a lot of them, including his biggest. When Jack nodded, the doctor continued "Was he in close contact with anyone else here?"

"Gwen and Rhys," Jack replied, then let his eyes slip closed. "And she's pregnant."

"I'll need to see her," the doctor replied, and Jack nodded. "I'm about to do my regular rounds with the residents, then I want to examine her. Will you be here for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, I'll sit with him," Jack said, pulling up a chair next to Ianto. The doctor laid a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"I'll do my best ," he said. "I know he's special to you."

Jack glanced up in surprise. "They all are."

Dr. Tomlinson shook his head as he left the room. "Mr. Jones is different. I'm glad he's back, but not as glad as you are."

He left Jack to his thoughts, most of which were a jumbled, anxious mess. Martha and Mickey were working on the cyber transmitter, and Gwen was calling her contact. Jack felt like he was waiting for something to happen. He felt useless. He sat silently for a long time, too keyed up to fall asleep, yet too emotionally drained to do much else besides sit and stare. Then he remembered something from several months earlier. He'd been lying in bed, trapped in a trance, and he remembered Ianto's voice speaking to him, warming him, grounding him. And suddenly Jack knew what to do.

"Ianto Jones," he started, taking Ianto's hand in his own. Because Ianto wasn't unconscious, Jack knew perfectly well he ran the risk of Ianto hearing everything he said, but he didn't care. He was at the end of his rope and needed to talk.

"You're really something else, you know that? You cajoled your way into Torchwood Three and immediately made yourself indispensable but invisible. We needed you, but we didn't even see you. And when we finally did, it was too late. You were so broken." He paused. "I know I've said it before, but I'm so sorry."

Jack hung his head and tried not to think of those first few months after Ianto had come to the Hub. Because every time he did, he felt the overwhelming guilt return that he hadn't noticed anything, even though it was all right there in front of him: Ianto's pain, his grief, his trauma. The entire team had simply taken the Welshman for granted until the nightmare in the basement had forced them all to confront uncomfortable truths, Jack more than any of them.

He'd already grown fond of Ianto by that point, and Ianto's betrayal had shaken him to the core. Jack hadn't been sure either of them would ever recover what they'd lost. Yet again, Ianto Jones had surprised him.

"You were so strong, though. So broken, but so strong. I don't know how you did it, really. How you came back, kept going, day after day. Knowing what Torchwood had done to Lisa, would it would do to you one day. But I'm so glad you did." He cleared his throat. "I'm so grateful you found it within yourself to forgive me…for not doing anything after Canary Wharf, for not being able to help Lisa. I'm not sure how I would have lived with that sort of hatred. Your forgiveness meant more to me that I think you'll ever know."

Jack stroked Ianto's hand and marveled that he was able to say such things. He'd never been one to talk much about his feelings, but at that moment they were so overwhelming he had to.

"I think it's because even if we hadn't…become involved, I still wanted you, I still needed you. Your strength, your loyalty, your friendship. I tried to help you pick up the pieces after Lisa died, but you helped me more. Even after I left, you forgave me and helped me deal with everything that had happened. You helped me live again."

Which was true: Ianto had forgiven him for leaving with the Doctor, though it had taken time for Jack to regain Ianto's trust. Affection grew from there as they'd navigated the murky waters of a relationship both of them had been unable, or perhaps unwilling, to define. Jack had been in a good place when Ianto had left: happy, comfortable, willing and wanting to give more, only he'd never been given the chance.

"And then you left," Jack whispered, his head falling to his chest with a sad laugh. "Once again I missed it, I didn't see your pain or conflict. And I'm so sorry, but god…I'm so glad you came back. Not because you've saved my life ten times over since this whole mess began, but because I missed you. I missed us. I suspect you'll never believe me, and here I am telling you while you're half unconscious with the flu virus from hell, but it's true. I—"

There was a gentle pressure on his hand that caused Jack to glance up. Ianto opened his eyes and offered him a weak smile.

"I was trying to sleep, you know," he said, his voice so quiet Jack could barely hear him. He leaned closer and ran a hand over Ianto's brow, noting that he was still warm, still pale, with deep circles under his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jack replied with a crooked grin. "I couldn't help myself."

"Stop apologizing," Ianto replied, his eyes slipping closed with another smile. "I get it."

"I thought you might," Jack said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I barely managed a catnap in the middle of a crisis." Ianto tried to sit up, and Jack helped him. "Thirsty, maybe even hungry."

"Amazing what an hour in bed can do for your appetite, isn't it?" Jack wagged his eyebrows as he stood to get Ianto some water. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"An hour of rest, yes. An hour with you usually results in something completely different."

Jack laughed. "In a good way, right?"

"From what I remember, yeah," said Ianto, his eyes a bit brighter with mirth.

"You don't remember this morning?" Jack pretended to be hurt, and this time Ianto laughed.

"There was no bed," he pointed out. "Only a lumpy sofa and a crowded shower."

Jack leaned down to kiss him, then handed him the water. "And it was still amazing."

"Jack," Ianto said, pulling away quickly. "You'll get sick. I'm officially infected by aliens, you know."

"I won't get it," said Jack. "I was probably infected in Thames House, but I died so my body will have reset, got rid of the virus."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "And you don't think you could have picked it up from me on that lumpy sofa or crowded shower?"

Jack kissed him again. "I don't care. Besides, I've had my shots." He grinned, and was glad to see Ianto shake his head and smile in return.

"Mutt," he murmured, but Jack heard the fondness in his voice. "Anyway, what about the others? Especially Gwen." Ianto's good mood suddenly vanished. "She's pregnant, Jack. This could be devastating."

"Dr. Tomlinson is already aware and on it," Jack said. "And I've got two leads in London working on the anti-virus."

"Two?" asked Ianto. "Also, food?"

Jack glanced around the small room but saw nothing. "I'll get something for you and bring it back. And yes, two. I called Frobisher, but he's sick and I doubt he'll help us. So Gwen called her contact, Lois. I'm hoping she can manage something for us if Frobisher tracks it down."

"If she's been in Thames House, she'll have contracted it as well," Ianto pointed out.

"Probably," Jack agreed. "But I'm not expecting her to drive us a sample, just something, anything we can work with."

Ianto nodded, then moved his feet to hang off the end of the bed. "Walk me to the kitchen," he said. "And catch me up with Martha and Mickey."

"Er," said Jack, hating to confine him when Ianto was clearly feeling the need to eat. "Dr. Tomlinson thinks it might be better to avoid the residents' area. You are still sick."

"Right." Ianto's shoulders sagged. "Quarantine. Great."

"I'll stay with you," Jack replied, sitting down next to Ianto. To his surprise, Ianto laid his head on Jack's shoulder.

"I'd really like something to eat," he said. "I did lose everything when we landed."

Jack chuckled. "Teleporting's not always that bad. Trust me, it's better than getting stuck in traffic!" He kissed Ianto on the head, then gently disentangled himself and stood. "I'll see if I can find you something simple, some bread and soup or something."

"Sounds perfect," said Ianto. "And I'll stay here, waiting for you to update me on Martha and Mickey."

"There's not much to tell," Jack said with a shrug. "They're still working on the transmitter. We should know something soon."

Ianto nodded. "We need to talk about what happens next," he said quietly.

"I'll get you some soup and we can talk as much as you like," Jack replied. He did not want to talk about it. It was, when it came down to it, too horrifying to think about. Either he had the cyber transmitter implanted to destroy the 456—and that was only a working theory—and risk being trapped inside his own mind forever, or Ianto underwent the surgery, most likely to end up dead. Neither option appealed to Jack, but he knew the outcome when it came down to it, and he would do anything—even knock Ianto out—to keep him from sacrificing himself.

Jack turned and left the room, but he bumped into Gwen, who looked slightly wild around the edges.

"Everything all right?" he asked, and she nodded.

"I've spoken to Lois, she'll do what she can. I think she understands what's happening better than the wankers in office, that's for sure. I also talked to Martha, and they'd like to see you."

"I'm coming too!" Ianto called from behind him. He appeared momentarily, wearing a mask over his face and shrugging when Jack raised a curious eyebrow. "You said you didn't want me spreading it, so this way I can keep my germs to myself."

Gwen looked ready to burst into tears at Ianto's words, and Jack patted her on the shoulder, hating to give her more bad news.

"Gwen, wait here for a bit. Dr. Tomlinson wants to see what he can do for you now that you've been exposed."

"Now that I've—" Her eyes went wide. "Oh my god, you're right. I've been exposed!"

"It'll be all right, Gwen," Ianto replied reassuringly. "We'll get the anti-virus, and I'll make you the best decaf coffee I can find when this is all over."

That snapped her out of it. "Why decaf?"

Jack laughed. "You're with child, woman. No more caffeine. Or at the very least, you'll need some major cutbacks from our usual."

"Of course I have to give up caffeine right when Ianto returns," she grumbled, but she was distracted from worrying for the moment.

"Let's go see what Martha's found. Gwen, I'm going to send Rhys over here too since he was exposed as well."

Gwen nodded and sat down to wait for Dr. Tomlinson as Jack and Ianto went down to the room where Martha and Mickey were still bent over the cyber transmitter.

"What have you got for me, team of mine?" Jack called as he entered. Mickey snorted and didn't bother to look up. Martha sat up straighter and stretched.

"It won't work without a brain," she said flatly. "It's exactly what we thought, and nothing we've done in the last hour has had any effect. It needs to be implanted."

Ianto cursed next to him, and even Jack shook his head in disappointment. It looked like they had no choice…he had no choice. He turned to Ianto and placed both hands on his shoulders, gazing directly into his eyes.

"I know you feel like it should be you," he said softly, and watched Ianto's face tense up to reply. "But I need you safe and alive." He leaned closer. "You are the only one I trust to do what has to be done if the implant goes wrong. You know what I mean."

Ianto stared at him. "If you're converted," he said flatly, and Jack nodded.

"I trust you," he said. "I have faith in you."

"I can't kill you," said Ianto. "I won't."

"You might have to," Jack replied. "And you can. I know you. And you know me. I'll come back. If you were to do this, I could never kill you, even to stop you, because you won't come back."

"I'm already good as dead," Ianto murmured, and Jack shook his head fiercely.

"No, no you're not! I need you, and not because of this. I need _you,_ Ianto. By my side when this is all over."

"Jack, I can't—" started Ianto, and Jack cut him off again.

"Please." He knew that word had a tremendous effect on Ianto, it always had. Jack had finally figured out it was because that one simple word made his words less of an order and more of a request, a choice. At that moment he needed Ianto to make the right choice. "You've saved me so many times already, please do this?"

"He's right, Ianto," Martha said quietly. "Your chances of survival are next to nothing compared to Jack. We need him for this."

Ianto glared at her, then back at Jack and lowered his voice. "Fine. I'll do it. But so help me, Jack, if you end up like…like her…I'll never forgive you."

Jack leaned forward to pull his mask aside and kiss him. "I won't. I promise. Because I trust you to do whatever you have to do to save me."

"I tried to save her," Ianto whispered, so quietly that no one but Jack could hear him. "I failed. I don't want to fail you, too."

"You won't," Jack said, and he felt his eyes pricking with tears, that he was asking such a thing of Ianto when the man was on the brink of collapse himself. "You've never failed me, Ianto. You're the only one who's never failed me."

Ianto bit back a sigh and nodded. Jack turned to Martha.

"When and where?" he asked.

Next to him, Ianto took his hand and held tight. And Jack knew that with Ianto by his side, he could survive anything.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now you know what's going on with Ianto. Rest assured there is still a lot of story to go, though the next chapter update may take an extra day or two. And it is very intense. Be warned. Thank you for reading, and thank you to my wonderful beta Taamar once again!


	19. Day Five  - Ianto Again

Day Five - Ianto Again

The stage was set for what was certain to be an epic tragedy, worthy of Shakespearian verse as the fate of the world rested on one group of rogue agents hiding out on a tiny island in the Bristol Channel.

Ianto stood with the others, listening quietly as Martha insisted that the infirmary was the only place they could perform the complex brain surgery to implant the cyber transmitter inside Jack.

"We need the equipment, the supplies, the medication," she said, sounding weary and reluctant. Jack had nodded in agreement and left to speak with Dr. Tomlinson. While Rhys helped Mickey begin to move some of the computer equipment they needed, Gwen reappeared and took Ianto into the corridor.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" she asked quietly. Ianto gave her a dry look, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"We just decided to implant Jack with cyber-technology," he replied, his voice flat. "And I just agreed to shoot him if he's converted. How do you think I am?"

She wrapped her arms around him and he stiffened, not because it was Gwen, but because he was sick, she was pregnant, and he didn't want to put her at risk. He wiggled out of her embrace and stepped back, the hurt look on her face telling him she didn't understand. He motioned at the mask he was wearing.

"I'm sick," he said. "And it's bad, in case Jack didn't fill you in."

"He did," she said sadly. "Dr. Tomlinson's started me on traditional antivirals. He said it should hold off the virus long enough to get the anti-virus." Ianto couldn't help but finish the unsaid thought hanging in the air between them.

"If we get the anti-virus."

"Jack talked to John Frobisher, and I spoke to Lois Habiba, and we'll get it, Ianto." She took his hand and squeezed. "Nothing is going to happen to you or to Jack. We're going to beat this thing."

"How do you stay so optimistic?" he asked, shaking his head. For some reason, the motion triggered a cough, and his chest seized up. When he was able to breathe again, he sighed, knowing it was serious from the way Gwen was watching him. There were tears in her eyes, and this time he pulled her close, sensing her need to be comforted, and if he admitted it, wanting the comfort for himself as well.

"I have to," she whispered. "I've never seen Jack so upset, not since we lost Tosh and Owen. And somehow this…this is worse. This is the entire world at risk, Ianto…but I think he's worried about you the most."

Ianto didn't respond, and Gwen stepped back to look him squarely in the eye. "He cares about you. I'm not sure you understand how much, and what your coming back means to him."

"Gwen," he started, and she shook her head, stopping him.

"Please don't leave us again," she said, and she wiped her eyes, offering him a stubborn smile. "We've lost so much, I don't know what we'd do…what Jack would do…"

"I'm here, Gwen," he said. "For as long as you need me."

He wasn't sure how long that would be, but he had to say something, and it seemed to satisfy her. "Come on, let's get back to the others. The sooner we do this…"

"The sooner I get my decaf!" Gwen declared.

Ianto forgot all about getting something to eat. He'd lost his appetite the moment he'd agreed to stand by as witness while Jack underwent surgery. They went back to the infirmary, where Dr. Tomlinson was arguing with Jack about taking over the room. He looked distinctly unhappy, and Ianto sighed, because if the doctor knew what was really about to happen behind closed doors, he would be horrified. Letting go of Gwen's arm, Ianto joined Jack, listening in on the argument and trying not to rub the tight spot in his chest, or the knot in his neck.

"I cannot allow it, Captain. Not without proper medical supervision."

"You know perfectly well that Martha is a medical doctor!" Jack snapped. "She's more than qualified to do this."

"Do what?" Dr. Tomlinson demanded. "Tell me who's undergoing surgery and why, let me help, and I'll consider the use of the room and equipment."

Jack's face grew stormy. "Do I need to remind you that I am in charge of this island?" he asked. "That I—"

"Yes, yes," the doctor waved him off, and Ianto almost laughed at the wide-eyed look of surprise on Jack's face. "You set it up, you run it, etcetera, etcetera. But I am in charge of patient health and well-being at this facility. If someone is going to operate on my watch, I need to know what's going on."

Ianto stepped forward. This was what he had done before he'd left Torchwood: smooth things over when Jack ran roughshod over everything and everyone who stood in his path. This was something he could do.

"Dr. Tomlinson, you're aware of some of Jack's more unusual…abilities, correct?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. Jones. I also remember your unique ability to clean up after him when he makes of mess of things."

"Hey," started Jack, but Ianto smiled; it was true, after all.

"You've been working with Martha to find a solution to the situation with the children, right?" Ianto continued.

The doctor crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "We've been trying to understand what's happening and how to stop it, yes. Are you telling me this is connected?"

Ianto took a breath and hoped Jack wouldn't be upset with him for revealing too much. Dr. Tomlinson was privy to a number of Torchwood's secrets, but Ianto wasn't sure if aliens were one of them. "Dr. Tomlinson, a hostile alien has been controlling the children. They are making serious demands on the government. We're hoping that this medical procedure will enable Jack to communicate with them so that we can—"

"Get them the hell out of our solar system," Jack finished inelegantly. "Especially since they're the ones spreading this virus. Now, this is all very classified—"

"Naturally," the doctor murmured, his eyes wide. Ianto wasn't sure if he was more startled at the revelation that aliens were behind the situation with the children or the rapid spread of the flu virus. "And I'm sure there's much more to it than you're telling me." Ianto nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said. "Which is why we need to do this on our own. For your own protection. I know you're concerned about Martha, but she knows what she's doing better than most doctors would in this situation. She's worked with aliens and alien technology before. We'll all be here assisting her in some way or another, and I will personally make sure that nothing goes wrong."

Jack gazed at him gratefully, taking his hand and squeezing it. The doctor sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I trust you more than I trust him," he said, cocking his head at Jack. "But promise me that if you need medical assistance, you will call me. Classified or not. I did sign the Official Secrets Act, after all."

"Thank you," Ianto replied. "We'll consider you on standby. It's always good to have backup." Jack shook his head, miming amazement.

"Still a miracle worker," he murmured. The doctor snorted.

"It's not hard with you blustering around like a bull in a china shop," he said. "Now, how are you feeling, Mr. Jones? Do you need anything?"

Ianto considered. He needed to be clear-headed for whatever happened in the next few hours, but he was warm and achy and his chest was growing tighter and tighter. When he said as much to Dr. Tomlinson, the other man nodded and went to his cabinets, unlocking them and measuring out some colored liquid.

"I can't give you anything else for the fever right now, but here's something for your chest. It shouldn't make you drowsy."

Ianto knocked it back in one go, shuddering at the vile taste. The doctor shone a light in his eyes and checked his pulse, then nodded. "I've done all I can for now other than tie you down and force you to rest. I can give you something else for the symptoms in a few hours along with another dose of antivirals, but not much else until we get the anti-virus."

"Thank you," said Ianto. "I'll be all right for now. Really."

"Bollocks," said the doctor. "You'll be stuck with him and his hero complex. I'll be checking on you both, just so you know."

"Thank you," Jack said, his voice sincere. The doctor finally softened.

"You're welcome. Now let me get the others started on antivirals as well, and I'll be out of your way. Good luck, Captain."

With that the doctor left them both speechless in his wake, moving quickly about the infirmary and speaking to the others. Ianto raised an eyebrow at Jack. "Has he always been like that?"

"Yes," Jack nodded. "But that was another level completely. Which means I definitely hired the right man for the job."

Ianto took a deep breath, gratified to find that he didn't immediately start coughing. He was also glad to know that Dr. Tomlinson had their back, even when they couldn't confess everything that they were about to do. Yet as Ianto had said, it was for the best. No one should have to see what the rest of them were about to witness.

Sitting down to rest while he still could, Ianto let his eyes slip closed and dozed off. He woke with a start to find that the room looked completely different. Mickey was finalizing his computer set up, while Rhys rolled in one more chair for him. Martha was going over instructions with Gwen, who was chewing her finger while she listened intently as Martha pointed at the various instruments laid out on a tray at the head of the examination table. Everyone seemed busy and had apparently left him to rest, all except for Jack. Jack was sitting next to Ianto, his elbows on his knees, his head down. Even after so many months away, Ianto knew what to look for, what to see, and he knew that though Jack was trying to hide it, he was scared.

He placed his hand on Jack's knee and squeezed. Jack glanced up at him in surprise. "You're awake."

"You're thinking too loud," Ianto replied with a small smile. "Come here." He opened his arm and pulled Jack into an awkward one-sided embrace. Jack rested his head on Ianto's shoulder and sighed.

"I hate this," he whispered.

"I know," said Ianto.

"It's not the idea of surgery, or even dying," Jack continued quietly enough for only the two of them to hear. "It's the thought of being converted, trapped within my own body without any control over it." He turned his face to Ianto. "And even worse, the thought of you going through it with me, after…" He trailed off, no words needed. "It's not fair to you."

"I hate it too," Ianto replied. "Knowing what you might go through, knowing you have to make this sacrifice for a mistake that happened forty-five years ago. It's not fair to you either, Jack."

"Right pair we make," Jack laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. "Reliving our worst experiences to save the world."

"It's bollocks," Ianto agreed, and this time they both laughed. Jack turned Ianto's face toward him and kissed him, slow and gentle, but with so much feeling behind the simple act that Ianto had to hold back a sob. He closed his eyes and deepened the kiss, terrified it would be his last. He didn't care if anyone was watching, he needed Jack to know, to understand, to believe.

"Jack," he whispered when they broke apart, foreheads touching. "Jack, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you and I need you to know—"

Jack cut him off. "I do. I know."

"No, you don't," Ianto insisted. "And if one of us doesn't make it out of this I need you to understand—"

"Stop it," Jack said, and he stopped Ianto with another passionate kiss. "We're both going to get through this, and we can talk about anything and everything under the sun when it's over. I promise."

Ianto wanted to protest, but at that moment Gwen came over and kneeled down in front of them. She looked as terrified as Ianto felt, gripping them both by their knees as if to keep herself upright.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But Martha's ready, Jack. It's time." Jack simply nodded to her, placed a hand on Ianto's face and kissed him one more time, then stood to move toward the table. He took off his shirt and braces, even his shoes before lying down and staring at the ceiling. Ianto thought he might be sick, knowing what was coming.

"Oh god," he whispered, forgetting that Gwen was still sitting in front of him. She glanced at his face, raised her hand to his forehead.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You're warm again. Maybe you shouldn't be here for this."

"I have to be here," Ianto replied, shaking his head. The simple motion hurt, whether from tension or illness he wasn't sure. He took a deep breath to calm his roiling stomach.

"We'll be here," she said. "Me and Rhys and Mickey. We'll take care of him, Ianto. You don't need to see this."

"And what will you do if it goes wrong?" Ianto demanded. "What then?"

"Martha has an injection ready…a sedative if he becomes uncontrollable, and a lethal dose if he becomes..." She trailed off, unable to even say it, which was why Ianto had to stay.

"One of them," he finished. "It might not be enough."

"It will work," she said.

"And if it doesn't?" he asked. "Could you kill him to stop him? Could you shoot him point blank to save him?"

"It won't come to that," she insisted. Her blind naiveté had apparently survived the rough week intact.

"But if it does?" He pressed her to make her understand: her optimism could get them killed if she couldn't do what had to be done, and he needed her to accept that.

She didn't answer, and he nodded. "That's why I'm staying."

"And you could?" she demanded. "Shoot him, just like that?"

"To save him, yes," Ianto replied. "I would do anything."

To emphasize his point, he took his handgun out and checked that his clip was full enough to stop an immortal Cyberman. Satisfied at both the state of his weapon and the look of shock on Gwen's face, he slipped it behind him and stood. It was pure grit and determination that got him to Jack's side without his knees buckling.

Jack's head was immobilized and his wrists were strapped down. Martha was placing an IV in his arm and hooking him up to the cardiac monitor, her movements hindered by the bulky cast on her leg as she limped around. Jack glanced at Ianto once before the sedative began to take affect and he closed his eyes, slipping peacefully into unconsciousness. Martha picked up a scanner—one that Ianto recognized as distinctly alien—and settled on a stool behind Jack. Gwen stood at her side as her assistant, while Mickey manned the nearby table of computers and Rhys watched discreetly from the corner. He noticed Ianto swaying and brought him an extra chair, so that he could sit next to Jack and listen as Martha spoke quietly.

"I'm not exactly sure where the Cybermen connect the transmitter," she said. "Only that it's somewhere in the frontal lobe. I going to map Jack's brain first, then open him up in the most likely position. After that I'll bring him out of sedation so he can talk to us."

"Why's that?" asked Rhys. Ianto glanced at him, wondering the same thing, thinking it might be more merciful if Jack remained unconscious through the entire abominable procedure.

"He can tell us what he feels, what's happening to him. It's a technique used to avoid complications. Ianto, that'll be your job, monitoring his reactions, all right? Talk to him, ask him questions. We want to make sure he can still move and speak."

Ianto nodded, and after a few more instructions and a silent prayer, the procedure began. Working with Mickey, Martha mapped out Jack's brain, and together they decided where to implant the transmitter. Ianto wondered if Mickey'd had a lot of experience with cyber-technology, or if maybe he'd done a medical course that allowed him to assist in complex brain surgery. He was reminded of Tosh, standing confidently by Owen's side helping him when the doctor needed an assistant; she'd even tended Ianto a few times herself. He smiled to himself as he remembered her awkward touch, as if applying steri-strips to his shoulder under Jack's reproachful eye had been more difficult than anything she'd done with a computer.

There was the sound of Jack's hair being shaved off, and Ianto held back a slightly hysterical laugh knowing that Jack was going to be gutted by the ridiculous look. He wondered if Jack's hair would grow back instantly if Jack died. A sharp intake of breath brought his focus back, as Martha lifted a small section Jack's skull to be able to see the surface of his brain. At least, that's what Ianto imagined from the other sounds; he couldn't watch directly. The sickened look on Gwen's face was enough for him to keep his eyes on Jack's face.

Martha spoke quietly to Gwen, who adjusted the medication in the IV as Martha had shown her. Ianto watched for signs of alertness, gently encouraging Jack to wake up as his eyelids started to flutter open. When they did, he found Ianto immediately and offered a drugged up smile.

"You're back," he said, his voice high and dreamy. Ianto took his hand and squeezed.

"Been back for a week, where've you been?" he joked.

"Oh, you know," Jack said, closing his eyes. "Busy week. Shot, blown up, on the run…just the usual."

"That's Torchwood for you," Ianto replied. He glanced up at Martha, who nodded at him to keep talking. She was studying the scanner again as Mickey checked the transmitter one last time.

"Want a job?" asked Jack, smiling again. "The hours suck and we're homeless at the moment, but the pay is pretty good, nice perks with the locals, and your boss is sweet on you."

Ianto felt himself blush as Martha and Gwen both giggled. It was unusual to see Jack in such a state, the sedation having let down some of his guard. He didn't answer, however, but asked a question of his own.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Numb as a crumb," Jack replied. Mickey snorted.

"If he can rhyme, he's doing fine." He glanced up at the others. "I didn't do that on purpose."

Martha glanced at him with a funny smile, then turned back and spoke to Jack. "I've opened up your skull, Jack. You're out of sedation so you can talk to us, tell us if something feels different or wrong, okay?"

"Anything for you, nightingale," Jack replied.

"Right," she laughed. "I'm going to start wiring the transmitter into your brain. You shouldn't feel anything, I've given you a nerve block. If you do, you let us know. And you tell us if you feel anything unusual from the transmitter itself, you know…" She trailed off, the implication obvious.

"Right," Jack sighed as he understood. "Just get on with it. Ianto?"

"Yes, sir?" Ianto replied immediately, falling back on old habits in a tense situation.

"Don't call me 'sir' until we're back in bed," Jack said, frowning. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course, Jack," Ianto replied quietly. He glanced up and watched Martha nod to Mickey, who handed her the transmitter. Meeting Ianto's eyes, she nodded again and set to work connecting the delicate technology to Jack's brain that they hoped would allow them to transmit the signal which would destroy the 456.

Once again Ianto was struck by what a bollocks plan it was.

Everyone was quiet as Martha worked. Occasionally she checked in with Jack, who answered her questions and then checked in with Ianto, as if making sure Ianto was still by his side. At one point Jack grinned and motioned Ianto closer.

"I was thinking…maybe we could, when this is all done…dinner, a movie…"

Ianto laughed through his nose. "Sounds familiar. Haven't you used that line already?"

"It worked the first time so I thought I'd try again," Jack offered. Ianto almost reached out to brush Jack's face, before remembering Martha was literally inside his head right now. He settled for patting Jack's hand instead.

"You get through this first, Jack." He deliberately avoided answering, because he wasn't sure if  _he_  would make it through, and he couldn't promise anything if he were going to succumb to the virus within days.

Then again, a nice expensive steak might be the way to go.

Shaking his head of morbid thoughts, Ianto smiled down at Jack, who did not return the smile, but watched Ianto so intently, Ianto had to look away.

"I'll ask again when this is all over, then," Jack whispered.

"Oi, Harkness," called Mickey from his computer. "Stop hitting on people while your head is cracked open. It's creepy."

Martha glanced up and met Ianto's eye. He mouthed 'Sorry' and sat down next to Jack, returning to his silent vigil once more. Ianto couldn't imagine the concentration it must take for Martha to be doing complex brain surgery right there, in a dingy, run-down bunker with little of the high-tech equipment she was used to. And she was doing it on a friend, whose life hung in the balance. Not literally, perhaps, but life as a cybernetic immortal was something no one dreamed about when they were young. Ianto idly wondered who was in the more difficult position at that moment: Martha as she made the complicated connections that would fuse Jack to the neural transmitter, or Ianto, who would have to kill Jack if everything went to shit and he was converted by those same connections. Or rather, _when_  Jack was converted; there was no doubt in Ianto's mind that he was about to relive his worst nightmare and watch Jack succumb just as Lisa had. It was just a question of how bad it would get.

Ianto caught Mickey's eye, as if the other man knew exactly what Ianto had been thinking. Mickey nodded in support, and Ianto sighed. He turned to glance at Gwen, to see how she was handling it, but was stopped by the unexpected sound of Jack speaking unprompted into the stifling silence.

"It hurts," Jack whispered, his hand reaching out, grasping blindly for Ianto. Ianto looked at Martha, who nodded her acknowledgment and continued her careful work. Ianto quickly returned his eyes to Jack's face, unable to stomach looking at Jack's brain laid open for Martha's tools. He took Jack's hand and held tight.

"I'm sorry, Jack. You're doing great. It'll be over soon."

Jack's eyes slipped closed and a tear rolled down his cheek. "But it hurts. So much pain."

"Martha?" Ianto asked, his voice cracking as he remembered Lisa, hidden away in the deep, dark storeroom of the Hub, speaking the same words. Begging him to help, to stop it, to end it. In spite of his own serious illness, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Jack, to hold him and reassure him that he would be all right, just as he had done with Lisa. Only this time he would do better, because he'd failed Lisa and he wouldn't fail Jack. Martha glanced up at him, her forehead beaded with sweat.

"It's just about complete," she said.

"He said it hurts," Ianto pointed out. It was strange having someone to talk to this time, even if he was pointing out the obvious. He'd kept Lisa a secret for months, bottling up his grief and anger and utter helplessness during the dark nights he'd slept by her side. At least this time Martha was there to help, and Gwen, and even Rhys. Mickey had apparently fought Cybermen in another dimension, so he'd probably be good in a pinch too. Martha was silent, though, so Ianto repeated his statement.

"I heard him," Martha snapped, then sighed. "I'm sorry, I've never done something like this before. He shouldn't be feeling anything, at least as far as earth-based physiology and technology is concerned, anyway."

"So it could be the cyber component activating that's causing him pain?" Ianto asked sharply. Jack squeezed his hand, harder than before.

"Make it stop," he begged. "I can't hold it back much longer."

"Hold what back?" Ianto asked, panic flooding his chest. He coughed into his elbow before turning back to Jack, ignoring the aches and pains the simple movement brought forth in dizzying waves. "Tell me how it hurts, Jack. What are you trying to hold back?"

"What do you think?" Jack moaned, eyes screwed shut. He twitched once before his eyes snapped open, blue shot through with black. When he spoke, his voice was flat and cold, like Lisa's voice, only deeper. Ianto instantly hated that voice. "Ignorant. Primitive. You have no idea know what you are doing."

"Jack, it's me," Ianto replied. He knew what was happening, Jack was falling under the influence of the alien transmitter wiring itself to his brain. It had happened to Lisa as well, brief moments of mechanical influence, even insanity as she'd fought against it. He'd always been able to talk her out of it …at least until the end, when she'd been claimed heart and soul by the machine within.

"Look at me," Ianto said softly, placing a sweaty, shaking hand along Jack's jaw, smiling down at him even as Jack stared back with no sign of recognition whatever. "There we go. You have to keep fighting this, Jack. Think about what you're doing and why you're doing it. Think about Alice and Stephen. Think about the boy we lost, and Clement, and Jake, and Bryan."  _Think about what happened to Lisa Hallett. Think about me._

"Humans," Jack replied in the same dead voice, then clenched his jaw and sobbed. "No, they were special, they meant something, they—" He froze and looked so malevolent that Ianto actually pulled away and shuddered. "They were weak. Human."

"So are you, Jack," Ianto said, shaking his head, forcing aside the visions of his coworkers, of Lisa, forced onto the conversion tables. "You're human. You're special. You mean something, to me."

Jack's other hand came up and laid heavily on Ianto's shoulder, the blank look softening somewhat, though Ianto knew the cyber-programming was still dominating Jack's words. "Ianto Jones. Yes. You are special. You are mine."

Ianto laughed nervously. "Yes, Jack. Yours. Which means you must fight this, whatever is happening inside. It's not real." He pulled Jack's hand to him and held it over his heart. "This is real."

"Ianto, oh god, I can't—" Jack's eyes rolled back in his head, and he began to convulse violently.

"Martha?" Ianto demanded, hearing the hysterical edge in his voice and knowing he was close to losing it completely. How could he survive going through this again? How could the universe be so cruel, forcing him to witness the conversion of not one but two lovers?

"Gwen, the red one!" Martha snapped. "Into the IV, immediately. It's to stop him seizing."

She held up her hands as Gwen moved to inject the medication into the IV line with shaking fingers. After a few moments, Jack settled down, and Martha let out a long breath.

"Sorry," she said, her voice shaky. "I'm doing my best. I..." She trailed off with a nervous sigh as she hunched over to continue her work.

Jack's eyes opened, pupils once again dilated black. "Ianto Jones. I will upgrade us. We can be together forever."

Gwen gasped. Martha bit back a sob as she worked, and Mickey swore under his breath. Ianto felt like he'd been kicked in the chest; his head fell forward as the tears began to flow. Just as he had feared, he was reliving his worst nightmare, watching someone he loved succumb to the cyber programming as he stood helplessly and watched. Lisa had been killed, shot right before him when he had failed to do right by her, but Jack couldn't die, and they had no idea what that meant for the cyber mind that was clearly beginning to take over. Had they doomed him to an eternity of hell, trapped within his mind?

"No, Jack," he said sadly, refusing to believe it. Jack could be saved, and though Ianto had failed to save Lisa, he would not fail Jack, not in this. He brushed his fingers lightly across Jack's face, remembering a time when he'd pressed kisses to Lisa's soft lips in the conversion machine he'd modified for life support. Jack didn't even blink at Ianto's touch. "No upgrades. Martha, can we sedate him again to hold back the conversion process?"

Martha glanced up, eyes bright through the plastic glasses she wore. She nodded and directed Gwen toward another needle on the nearby tray. Gwen found the correct dose, and with shaking hands moved to inject it into Jack's IV. Only Jack was too strong and too quick: he ripped his arm from the restraints and lashed out with his hand, sending her crashing to the floor with a muffled shout.

"Rhys!" Ianto shouted as he jumped up to restrain Jack. "Get the needle!"

Rhys scrambled to find the dropped needle, passing it quickly to Ianto, who stabbed Jack directly in the thigh instead. Jack screamed obscenities at him before he passed out.

"What the hell was that?" Ianto whispered breathlessly, then fell back into the chair where he'd been keeping vigil and let his head fall into his hands. He couldn't stop the shaking; even his voice was unsteady. The room felt too warm and too cold at the same time, and he was certain it was far too bright. Deep breaths kept him from vomiting. "That was not cyber programming."

"His brain's fucked up," said Mickey from the computer where he was monitoring everything he possibly could. "His brain waves keep jumping between patterns. He's fighting it hard and it's fighting back. We need to finish this before he wakes up. Or heals before we have a chance to use the transmitter."

"Almost there, Mickey," Martha replied. She sounded exhausted and on the verge of tears, which was not unlike how Ianto felt, though he wanted to scream at the injustice of it all as well. He glanced up to find Rhys holding a crying Gwen on the floor.

"Gwen, are you all right?" he asked, standing to go to her but finding he was too unsteady to make it. He legs buckled and he sat back down with an inelegant curse. "Are you hurt?"

She wiped her face and offered a weak smile. "No," she said, though she sounded unsure. "Mostly I can't believe…I've never been…not by Jack…" She trailed off, swallowing another sob. Rhys wrapped his arms around her.

"He's not himself, love," he told her, and Ianto nodded in agreement. He was more and more impressed by Rhys Williams and his quiet, solid support the longer he was around the man, and thought he was probably much better for Gwen than Jack might have been. Because Jack was lying on a table with his brains splayed out, declaring his intent to upgrade Ianto. Rhys wasn't threatening Gwen, was he? It hardly seemed fair, that Ianto always ended up with the psychotic lovers. Only they weren't, not really, and he forced himself to remember them as they were, not what they'd become.

"He would never hurt you, you know that," Rhys said. "It's that damn thing in his head." Right. The cyber transmitter they were trying to use to destroy the three-headed alien squid trying to fly off with a bunch of children as drug hits. Ianto shook his head yet again at the sheer idiocy of their plan.

"I know," Gwen sighed, leaning against her husband. "I know, but it's still hard to see him like that, to hear that awful voice." Her eyes went wide and she glanced up at Ianto. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be feeling, after..."

Ianto could feel three other sets of eyes turn on him, each equally curious; apparently none of them knew about Lisa. How in the world had Gwen managed to keep that secret when she could barely stop talking about everything else that wasn't her business? He couldn't decide if he was glad no one knew, or if it was something they should be aware of. He wasn't sure how he'd deal with the situation if Jack were compromised, and it occurred to him that perhaps someone beside Gwen ought to be aware of his history. It wasn't every general administrator slash personal assistant who hid his cyber-girlfriend in the basement, after all. Just him. Just his rotten luck it was happening again.

"It's not something I ever wanted to go through again," he murmured, thinking it was the understatement of the century as he glanced at Jack. "This is even worse, knowing what happened the first time."

Mickey whirled in his chair. "What do you mean, the first time? Has Jack been converted before?"

"No," said Ianto, shaking his head, only it hurt and he stopped. "It was my girlfriend. She was partially converted at Canary Wharf. I tried to save her. I failed." As if on cue, the spectre of his failure appeared at Mickey's shoulder, tears wetting her face as she reached for Ianto. He shut his eyes against her, and when he opened them, she was gone.

"Shit." Mickey stared at him. "I was there, at Canary Wharf. It was a bloody massacre."

"It was a nightmare," Ianto whispered. Gwen appeared, kneeling before him, one hand rubbing his leg in support, one hand cupping his face. Was she going to kiss him? No, she was married to Rhys now, who wasn't turning into a cybernetic killing machine before her eyes. He took several shaky breaths, determined not to fall apart on her shoulder, no matter what happened to him or to Jack. He would stay strong, like Rhys. He had failed Lisa, but he would not fail Jack.

"It won't happen again," Gwen told him, stroking his cheek. "We won't let it."

"Gwen," he started, then stopped as he saw Lisa once more, standing behind Gwen and reaching out as if she wanted to wipe his tears away. He closed his eyes against the vision; when he opened them, Lisa was gone but Gwen was still there, watching him carefully, her eyes bright with determination. Or maybe she was getting ill. No, that was him. That's why his breathing was so tight again. He held back a cough, not wanting to expel his germs in her face, not when she was pregnant. God, she was expecting a baby, what the hell was she doing here? Jack was right, she needed a normal life, they all did.

"No, we know more this time. We won't let Jack be converted. It'll be all right."

Ianto nodded even though he doubted her words. Oh, she meant well, but she had always been the eternal optimist, the voice of blind faith. It had driven them all mad at times, and even then Ianto wanted to roll his eyes at her naiveté, but at the same time, he tried to draw strength from her. Not so that he could stop it from happening, but to deal with it if it did. Which it would. Why wasn't  _he_  the one on that table? He was dying anyway, until the antivirus could be found. He could be giving his life for the children of planet Earth; instead he was hallucinating his dead girlfriend in an underground bunker on a deserted island in the middle of the Bristol Channel. What an utter waste.

"I'm ready," said Martha, breaking his train of thought. Gwen left him to stand with Martha once more, so Ianto pulled his chair closer to Jack for lack of anything else to do. "The transmitter should work now. Mickey, have you got the signal ready?"

"Ready and waiting," Mickey said, turning back to his computer, his fingers flying. "Let's do this. On one. Three…two…one…"

He punched one last key and without warning Jack sat straight up, almost knocking Ianto flat on his back. His eyes scrunched up and his mouth opened, and for a moment, it was a terrifying yet silent sight. Then a hideous noise came from his mouth, like a cross between an angry shout and a defiant yell combined with a spine-tingling scream overlaid with the horrible mechanical grating he'd hated so much in Lisa's voice. Ianto couldn't help but stand and stumble backward as it continued and Jack began to shake, his entire body vibrating with obscene convulsions. Blood fell from his nose and ears.

"Mickey!" Ianto shouted over the hideous noise. He wanted to run, or shut his eyes and clamp his hands over his ears until it was over, but he forced himself to witness. It would be his sanity, no doubt, but he watched Jack's death throes, almost sick from the violence of it.

"It should be working!" Mickey shouted back. "Almost there."

"He's dying!" Ianto shouted. "You didn't say it would kill him. He's suffering!"

"He's saving the world, mate," Mickey replied, and Ianto snapped, adrenaline giving him the strength to lunge toward Mickey with a growl, determined to fight the man, to turn it off, stop it, stop torturing Lisa—

Without warning, the room went silent. Jack fell limply to the bed, eyes closed. They all stared at one another in shock. Ianto moved slowly toward Jack, relieved to see the man's chest rising and falling. Somehow, he'd survived, though Ianto had no doubt it had been pure torture as the transmitter sent out the signal. He stood beside the bed, his heart still racing, and laid out an unsteady hand, placing it over Jack's heart to reassure himself that it was still beating strong.

"Did it work?" he asked, glancing up at Martha and Mickey. Mickey looked like he was too stunned to move, as if the horrible scene had been far worse than he had expected. He shook himself and turned back toward his computer.

"I think so…Thames House is clear. The alien's gone." He paused, fingers moving across the keys once more as he pulled up cameras and reports and internal news feeds. "UNIT is reporting a large ship leaving orbit."

"It worked," Gwen whispered. "They're leaving." Martha looked shell shocked. Mickey went to stand next to her, laying a hand on her arm.

"Hey, you did it," he said. "It's all right. You did it."

"No, I didn't," she said, tears falling from her eyes. "Jack did it. I hurt him."

Ianto was watching Jack carefully, searching for signs of consciousness. His breathing was more regular, but his eyes were twitching behind his lids and his body was tense, as if he were still battling internally with the demons of the cyber-programming.

"Get it out," Ianto said, bending over Jack and wiping his face of sweat and blood. "Get it out of him. Now."

Martha nodded wearily and sat down on her stool. Yet before she could even begin to prepare, a strong hand shot out and grabbed Ianto by the wrist, pulling him close.

"Ianto Jones."

It was Jack's voice, but not. Cold. Metallic. Mechanical. Completely devoid of everything that was Jack, the way Lisa had sounded at the end. Ianto fell backwards with a sob, wrenching his arm free of Jack's iron grip.

"No…"

Jack sat up again and cocked his head, looking all the world like a robot processing ones and zeros, and not the man Ianto had spent the night with, had showered with, had teleported across southern England with. "You said you were mine."

"Not like this," Ianto whispered. The others watched the scene with horror etched on their faces, but only Ianto knew how bad it really was. He was the only one who had known Lisa, had watched as she lost the battle. "This isn't you."

"I am better. Superior."

"You're not Jack," Ianto snapped. God, it was exactly like the nightmare at the Hub, and Ianto spiraled deeper and deeper into panic, his heart racing, his breathing bordering on the verge of hyper-ventilation. He felt weak and dizzy and nauseous and absolutely defeated. He wasn't sure how long he could stand up to Jack before he collapsed from both his own physical symptoms and the devastating assault on his emotions.

"Fight it, Jack," Gwen said, coming to stand next to Ianto, as if sensing his need for support. "He's right, this isn't you."

Jack gazed at her blankly. "Gwen Cooper. You will be deleted." He smiled at Ianto; it was a horrible smile, completely false with no warmth at all. "Ianto Jones. You will be upgraded. We will be together forever."

"No!" Ianto shouted as the ghost of Lisa Hallett laughed at him from the corner. "Martha, now!"

Martha stood on one leg and stabbed Jack in the neck with the lethal injection she'd prepared for such a disaster. She held it there for a moment too long, however, and Jack reached around, ripping it from her hand, then pushed her away hard so that she fell backwards into Mickey. He glared at Ianto with a look of such deep hatred that even though he knew it wasn't really Jack, Ianto felt his heart break into a million more pieces than it had the night Lisa had died.

Just like that, Jack's face crumpled in confusion, and his voice returned to the familiar baritone that Ianto adored. "Ianto?" he asked. "Help me, please—"

And then he died.

"Oh my god," said Gwen, and turned into Rhys's embrace. Martha was sobbing, while Mickey stared in shock at the gruesome scene gone completely out of control. No one said anything, no one moved. Ianto thought that if he did, if he took even one breath, he would fall apart, screaming and sobbing on the floor, unable to process anything that had happened.

"We need to take out the transmitter," Mickey said quietly, gently helping Martha back to her operating stool. "Let me help."

Martha took a shuddering breath and nodded. Gwen wiped her tears and moved away, Rhys murmuring reassurances as they stood in the back of the room and watched. Ianto stayed at the foot of Jack's bed, staring at the man before him, locked in his own private hell. Both of them were, really. Ianto was experiencing his worst nightmare once more, while Jack struggled to escape his. Jack was dead and Ianto was dying. He only hoped that Jack returned to himself before Ianto died from the virus he felt claiming him more and more by the minute.

Watching blankly as Martha began the process of removing the cyber tech, Ianto listened impassively as her and Mickey murmured to one another. He felt Gwen step up beside him and ignored her, all his focus on Jack, as if he could will the other man to wake up free of the cyber programming. Maybe that was why Lisa had died, because Ianto hadn't believed in her enough. He'd as good as killed her himself because he'd lost faith in light of her murderous rampage. He would believe in Jack, he had to. Ianto didn't want to die knowing Jack was cursed to immortality as a Cyberman.

Without warning Jack rolled off the bed, away from Martha's gloved hands. Ianto had a brief glimpse of Jack's head before he stood, the tiny implant laying against his skull, wires connected to pulsing gray matter. It was an image he would never be able to forget, the very essence of cyber-programming, all will taken away by the machine embedded within. Jack stood slowly, gazing around the room, and Ianto couldn't help but step backward, away from the dead look in Jack's eyes.

"This island will serve as our base," he said. He held out his hand, stiff and uninviting, toward Ianto. "You will be my first. Together we will upgrade humanity."

Ianto shook his head, unable to speak. A vision of Lisa flashed back and forth over the rough planes of Jack's face, so blank and cold. She had made the same offer—god, she had wanted to transplant her brain with his, her twisted mind thinking two brains sharing one body was the very definition of true love. He laughed somewhat hysterically as he imagined sharing a body with Jack, wondering how in the world they would have sex with only one —

"Fight it, Jack," Gwen whispered, sounding more confident than Ianto suspected she really felt. She was shaking like a leaf beside him. Of course she was. Lisa had strapped her into a conversion unit. They'd had to shut down the entire Hub to stop the blades from cutting into Gwen's skin. She was facing a nightmare as well, though she had escaped Lisa's wrath relatively unscathed. Ianto carried the scars everywhere, everyday. He felt them on his skin, across his arms, down his neck, over his face, and clawed at them, drawing blood as he tried to scrub away his failure.

"Why?" Jack replied. "I am superior. Ianto Jones will be superior. We will remake humanity to be superior."

"There's nothing wrong with us, Jack," Ianto snarled, stepping forward and pushing Jack in the chest. He was pissed off with this nonsense. This wasn't Jack, Jack didn't believe this bullshit. Jack hated the Cybermen, and he hated being immortal even more. He would never embrace it, he'd rip his own brain out first. With an abrupt sense of preternatural calm, Ianto realized the only possible outcome to the situation and began to prepare for it. His hands came round to his back and found his weapon; he pulled it silently from his waistband, disengaging the safety and placing his thumb on the trigger.

"I will upgrade you," said Jack. "We can be together forever. You will be stronger, better. You will be mine."

"I like my life the way it is," Ianto replied, still frighteningly calm. "Human." Behind Jack, Martha and Mickey made a motion, and Jack turned into a defensive position so that he could see them all. Yet no one moved, too mesmerized by the sight. Ianto knew that neither Martha nor Mickey were armed. Martha didn't even have another lethal dose of drugs; she'd used it up the first time Jack had died, when she'd stabbed him in the neck. Besides, he couldn't ask her to kill her friend again.

Gwen had a gun, but Ianto knew without a shadow of a doubt that she could never pull the trigger, not on Jack. Oh, she'd hit him and slapped him and screamed in his face, but she could never, ever bring herself to kill him, even knowing he'd come back. She'd never shoot him, blow his brains out to save him.

No, this time it was up to Ianto.

He couldn't breathe. He could hardly see straight. His legs were useless logs of flesh barely holding him upright, and his hands were shaking like he was in some sort of withdrawal. Yet as the ghost of Lisa Hallett whispered in his ear— _You wouldn't shoot me. I did this for you—_ Ianto pulled the trigger, never more sure of anything in his short, traumatic life. He put one bullet through the center of Jack's forehead, killing him instantly, and then a second and third, to be sure the cyber tech was destroyed beyond reason, splattered against the wall with blood and brain matter.

There were screams, and a thud, and then silence. Ianto clicked the safety and unloaded the magazine, setting it all down on the chair before him. He stared at Jack's lifeless body, sprawled on the floor, and for the first time since he'd found out Jack's secret, Ianto did not go to him, would not hold him as he gasped back to life.

Instead, he whispered a silent apology to both his lovers, past and present, then slid awkwardly to the floor as darkness claimed him. He did not care if Death had come for him at last, because he had done his duty. He had helped save the children, and more importantly, he had saved Jack.

And he wouldn't change it for the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Breathe slowly and remember there are still several more chapters to go.   
> Many thanks to Taamar for her help in encouraging this the first time I wrote it, for helping with the medical jargon, and her always perfect beta work.  
> So, any thoughts or too traumatized? Sometimes I can't believe I wrote this. Thank you for reading!
> 
>  


	20. Day Six - Jack

Day Six - Jack

Death was nothing compared to conversion.

It was worse than he'd ever imagined, even in his darkest nightmares. More pain than he had endured through a year of torture on the  _Valiant_ , it was an agony of the mind that strangled him, an unbearable torment that wrapped its tendrils around the very essence of who he was and squeezed until he couldn't bear it any longer. Yet there was nothing to fight against, for it was an invisible invader consuming his soul, and he had nothing to fight with, as his body gave in and his mind lost the will to resist.

It was hell, and even worse was that a small spark of  _him,_  uncaught and untamed, remained free, trapped behind the powerful cyber thinking and watching everything from behind the glass that bound him. He raged against being held prisoner in his own body and mind, screamed and shouted and sobbed unshed tears. But there was nothing. The cyber program was like an ominous parasite, worming its way into every fiber of the host's being, rewiring all conscious thoughts and actions with its goal.

Upgrade.

Jack felt it happening and could not stop it. He watched through dead eyes as Ianto faced his nightmare, as he pushed and shoved and shouted at the being that had taken over Jack. He felt his tenuous grip on sanity begin to slip as Ianto broke before him, only to stand straight and tall and pull his weapon from behind him. SIG Sauer, P226, 9mm cartridge. It would be Jack's salvation, but what would it be for Ianto?

There was nothing in Ianto's eyes but gut-wrenching grief as he pulled the trigger. Jack wanted to thank him, but was lost in a haze of razor-sharp pain and cold darkness as the bullet severed all ties to life.

He gasped back to life with one word on his tongue. "Ianto!" he called out before he could draw a second breath, before he opened his eyes. A calm voice hushed him, but it was not Ianto, and Jack glanced wildly around to find Martha holding him in her lap. There was blood everywhere, and the sight and scent of it made Jack suddenly, inexplicably, and violently ill. He rolled off her lap and vomited all over the floor, Martha's hand rubbing circles into his back as she cried silently next to him. Then Mickey was there, pulling her into an embrace and handing Jack a towel.

"Welcome back, mate," he said. He was watching Jack warily, still holding Martha tight as if shielding her from Jack. "How are you feeling?"

Jack noticed that Mickey's hands were covered in blood. "Human," he said, his throat raw and burning with bile.

"Mind if I make sure?" Mickey asked casually. Martha's eyes slipped closed, and Mickey shook his head. "I have to," he told her. "We need to be sure."

"Do it," said Jack, though he didn't quite understand. "And then tell me where's Ianto? What happened?"

Martha stood on one shaky leg, and Mickey helped her to her stool. Jack went to the bed, where he sat and glanced around the room. It was a disaster. There was blood on the wall, on the floor, on the overturned chairs and medical instruments scattered everywhere.

"He's with Dr. Tomlinson," said Mickey. Martha gave Mickey the scanner she had used earlier, and Mickey ran it around Jack's head. After several moments and a few more passes, he nodded.

"I think he's free of it. But it wouldn't hurt to do a more in depth scan, make sure nothing was left behind."

"I think you got it all," Martha snapped, then bit her lip when Mickey froze. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "You were only doing what you had to do."

"Someone tell me what's going on!" Jack demanded, hearing the slight edge of hysteria in his voice. He didn't know what had happened to him, to Ianto, or to the children, and he needed to know something. "Did it work? Are they gone?"

"Yeah, they're gone," said Mickey with a satisfied nod. "It worked. We broadcast the signal through you, all the children picked it up, and the bastards tucked tail and ran. It's over."

Jack breathed a tremendous sigh of relief. "And did I…I assume this is all my blood?"

"Yes," said Martha, taking his hand. "I'm sorry, Jack. It was the only way to stop you."

"I remember," Jack whispered, closing his eyes. "It's like waking up from a bad dream. I was trapped behind glass and metal, but I couldn't do anything to stop it, to get out."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again, tears coming from her eyes. He slid to the floor, kneeling before her to wipe them away.

"No, don't be," he said. "Martha, you did it. You stopped them from taking millions of children!"

"You did," she said, wiping her nose but smiling at him. "You did it, Jack."

"Semantics," he replied, and Mickey snorted. "Before I ask how bad it was, tell me Ianto's okay, that I didn't hurt him. You said he was with Dr. Tomlinson. What happened?"

Martha and Mickey shared a concerned look that made Jack's heart race in fear. "Tell me! He's not dead, is he? Oh god, tell me I didn't kill him!"

"Of course you didn't, Jack," said Mickey, his face hard. "You wanted to upgrade him and make him immortal, not kill him."

"Oh god, no," Jack whispered. "It really happened. I was completely converted."

"Pretty much," Mickey said, then shook his finger at Jack. "And you have a lot of balls asking Ianto to go through that again when he already watched his girlfriend be converted."

"He tried to save her," Jack murmured.

"I know," Mickey said. "He said he failed. Well, he stepped up for you, if that's what you want to call it. Shot you point blank in the head, three times to make sure the transmitter was destroyed. I pulled the pieces out of your brain with my bare hands just to be sure."

Jack thought he might be sick again thinking about Ianto having to shoot him, Mickey ripping wires out of his head. It was too horrific to even contemplate, and he sat back down on the bed heavily, his head falling to his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head. "I tried so hard to resist."

"Jack!" Martha exclaimed, shooting Mickey a furious look. She took his hand and squeezed tight. "Don't apologize! We know you did. You sacrificed your sanity to save the world. Don't ever apologize for that!"

"How is he?" Jack asked. "Is that why he's with Dr. Tomlinson?"

Once again Martha and Mickey exchanged glances, but this time Jack grew angry. "Tell me!"

"He collapsed as soon as he put his gun down," Martha said. "We called Dr. Tomlinson immediately. I think the stress was too much for Ianto. He's spiked a high fever, and he's on oxygen to help him breathe. The virus appears to be getting worse."

"Oh god," said Jack, standing and finding his legs were unsteady. He drew a deep breath. "It's not over yet. We need that anti-virus. Where is he?"

"He's in our room," said Mickey. "The good doctor didn't like the state of his infirmary. You'd best clean up before you go down there."

Jack tossed out a curse and moved clumsily toward the door. "I don't care what anyone thinks of my appearance. I need to see Ianto."

"You're covered in blood!" Martha exclaimed.

Jack turned and stared her down, but she stood and limped toward him, an angry look on her face.

"You clean yourself up, Jack Harkness. You are not going in there covered in your own blood. You'll only remind him of what you made him do."

"Could you have done it?" Jack asked.

"Sometimes I want to!" she retorted, then clamped her hand over her mouth. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, Jack, I didn't mean—"

Jack laughed, and she smiled tentatively. "I know what you meant. I'll clean up first. Sometimes I'm an idiot, like right now. But sometimes I have to make the hard decisions. I don't like what he went through any more than you do, but there was no way around it. He'd tell you the same thing."

"I know." She sighed. "Go and shower so we can all have our turn before we start tackling this virus."

Jack nodded and hurried down the hallway to the room he and Ianto had shared for one night. He gazed longingly at the bed where a few days ago they had curled up in one another's arms, waking together only to be interrupted by Gwen. Jack wanted more than anything to collapse on that bed with Ianto by his side, safe and sound. Yet first he had to save Ianto from the virus ravaging his body. Ianto had saved him, now it was Jack's turn.

Grabbing a change of clothes from the supplies he always kept at the facility, Jack hurried down toward the shower and tried to clean up as quickly as he could. He had to scrub a lot of blood from his hair, and more than once he stopped to take a deep breath as the water ran red around him.

He should be used to it; he'd died hundreds if not thousands of times over the course of his long life. This should be no different, except it was. Other deaths had been this violent and messy, yes, but this time it was someone he cared about, someone who cared about him, who killed him. And even though he'd made Ianto promise to do it, even though it had been the only way and that Ianto had done it out of loyalty and not anger or hatred, knowing that Ianto had pulled the trigger brought back too many memories for Jack. Memories of other friends, even lovers, who had turned on him, betrayed him, and killed him. Logically he knew it was not happening again; emotionally his heart refused to leave the past where it belonged and broke yet again at the thought of another betrayal by another lover.

It was made worse by the fact that Ianto had betrayed him before. First with Lisa, then with the Rift. And then he'd left Jack, leaving a behind trail of lies, letting Jack believe that Ianto had Retconned himself and started a new life away from Torchwood, when in reality he'd ended up with UNIT, his job just as dark and dangerous.

Yes, Ianto had tried to save Jack from the bomb, had saved him from being encased in concrete, had held him as he'd revived after Thames House. But he hadn't been there when Jack had woke up after being converted. Ianto had shot him—three times!—and left him. Conversion had been one of his most horrific experiences ever, and Ianto had not been there for Jack when Jack had needed him the most.

Jack pounded the wall of the shower, cursing the part of him that thought such things. He  _knew_  Ianto was sick and would have sat with Jack if he'd been able. He  _knew_  Ianto had hated every moment of watching Jack go under and lose control, and he _knew_  Ianto had only shot him to keep a promise to Jack if the cyber programming took over. He could not let his past cloud his future. Ianto was back. Ianto had saved him. Ianto still cared for him…didn't he?

Finishing his shower and hoping he'd left some hot water for the others, Jack dressed quickly in clean clothes, running a hand through his wet hair and hurrying to the room Mickey and Martha had used to recover. As eager as he was to see Ianto, to assure himself that Ianto was all right, he stumbled to a halt in the doorway when he saw the scene within.

Dr. Tomlinson was talking to one of the nurses from Flat Holm, who was injecting something into the IV that was connected to Ianto's forearm. Gwen stood in the corner, clinging to Rhys. No one saw Jack standing there with his breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure on the bed.

It couldn't have been that long since he'd last laid coherent eyes on Ianto, yet the man before him looked nothing like the man Jack remembered. Pale and drawn, his face was covered in a mask, his arm hooked to an IV. His shirt was open where electrodes were stuck to his bare chest. There was a blanket tucked around him, but Jack could see him shivering from the doorway, and it was that more than anything that roused him.

"He's cold," Jack said, and everyone turned to stare at him. The doctor motioned at the nurse to continue working, then strode angrily toward Jack, grabbing him by the elbow and forcing him from the room. Jack was too stunned to resist.

"What's happened?" he asked after the doctor had shut the door and dragged him down the corridor. "Is he all right?"

"No, you bloody idiot!" Dr. Tomlinson snapped. "He's not all right. He's in shock on top of having a dangerous case of the flu."

"Shock?" Jack asked.

The doctor glanced around, then shoved Jack in the chest. Jack had never seen the normally mild-mannered man so angry.

"You're a real arsehole, you know that, Captain?" he demanded. "You ban me from my own medical facility so that you can attempt some sort of pseudo-brain surgery that apparently requires you to have your head ripped open!"

Jack held up his hands to ward off any further blows. "I'm all right," he started, but the doctor stopped him.

"I saw you lying there with your brains blown all over the wall!" he hissed. "There was blood everywhere, Jack.  _Everywhere_. In my medical facility. And yet they came running to get me because Mr. Jones had collapsed." He took a deep breath, and if possible, the anger in his eyes increased. "After shooting you."

"It's not what you think," Jack said, shaking his head. "Ianto was protecting me. He saved me."

"I don't care if he was trying to propose to you!" the doctor exclaimed. "He was already sick and he shot you. Even worse if he was forced to do it!'

Jack ground his teeth together, because he agreed. He hated that Ianto had been forced to execute him, but it had been the only way, and there was simply no way to explain that to Tomlinson.

"He knew what he was getting into," Jack replied, letting his eyes slip closed. "He's dealt with this sort of thing before."

"What, shooting people in the head to dig alien technology out of their brains?"

Jack glanced at the doctor in surprise. The other man snorted. "Gwen talks too much, always has. I don't understand everything that's going on here,  _Captain,_ but let me make myself clear: there will be no more surgeries, no more shootings. Because we need to concentrate on fighting this virus now that your little horror show is over."

The doctor was breathing hard, and Jack was again astounded at the strong display of emotion. He nodded, waited, and then replied.

"I agree, and I apologize. How is Ianto?"

"Not good," the doctor replied. "His fever is still climbing, his chest is congested, he's weak and dehydrated, and now he's in some sort of emotional shock."

"Can I…can I see him?"

"Are you going to make it worse?" the doctor demanded. Jack felt cowed.

"I just want to talk to him," Jack replied quietly. "I—" He didn't know what to say to the doctor, who sighed and nodded.

"Watch what you say," Dr. Tomlinson said. "He's in no state for any of your bullshit."

"I understand," Jack replied, then moved back toward the room.

"Captain, have you heard anything about the anti-virus?" asked the doctor.

"Not yet," said Jack. "It's only been a few hours, and there's so much going on."

"Well," said the doctor, hands tucked into his pockets. "You solved one of those problems, didn't you?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Yes, we did. The children are safe."

"Alien menace gone?"

"Alien menace gone," Jack repeated. The doctor nodded.

"It's not as if I'm not used to seeing the impossible around here, Jack. When this is all over, I'd like to know the truth about what happened in that room. I think I deserve it."

"I think you do," Jack agreed. "Thank you for your support, Lionel. For taking us in, looking after us, trusting us."

Lionel Tomlinson rolled his eyes, as if channeling Ianto. "Add it to my Christmas bonus. Now, if you're going to see Ianto, I'm going to step back into the slasher film that is my infirmary for more supplies."

Jack nodded and went back to the room where Ianto was resting. He took a deep breath before entering, mentally preparing himself for another brow-beating from Gwen. When he stepped into the room, he found her standing by Ianto's bed, holding his hand. Rhys was still in the corner, and it was Rhys who shot Jack the dirty look; Gwen didn't even glance up at him.

"There's nothing we can do," she whispered, tears falling silently from her eyes.

"That doesn't mean we can't try," Jack replied from the doorway. He glanced at Rhys again, who nodded at him, motioning Jack to go to Gwen. He walked tentatively over to the bed and stood across from her. She still refused to look at him, and Jack felt his heart break a little, that Gwen, his Gwen, was either so angry or so scared of him that she could no longer look him in the eyes.

"He did it," she said softly, brushing Ianto's hair from his face. "He saved us all this time." And then she glanced up, her eyes piercing. "From you."

Jack blew out a breath. There was the reproach he'd been expecting. "I'm sorry," he offered, and waited for her to rail at him. He'd seen her anger enough times to know what it was like, and he was prepared to take it all. Yet again she surprised him.

"I know," she said quietly. "I just hope he knows."

It was like a knife in the heart. When Jack didn't respond, Gwen glanced up at him once more.

"He came back for you," she said. "He stood by you. He saved you. And this is what you've put him through. You made him relive everything he went through with Lisa. How could you do that to him?"

"I had no choice," Jack whispered. "He knew, Gwen. He knew what it might come to, and he stayed. He made his choice, and this time he did it! He beat it!"

She sniffled. "You mean, he couldn't shoot Lisa, but he could shoot you."

There was an inelegant snort from Rhys that Jack ignored. "No, I mean that he couldn't save Lisa, but he  _did_ save me. He's strong, Gwen. He's the strongest man I know. He knew what he had to do, and he did it. And he will survive this." Jack tried to put as much feeling as he could into his words, as much to convince Gwen as to convince himself.

"He'd better, Jack," she said strongly, brushing Ianto's damp hair from his forehead. "We can't lose him now that he's back."

Ianto opened his eyes before Jack could respond, which was good because Jack was too choked up to reply. He focused first on Gwen, then turned his head and saw Jack. His eyes went wide and he pulled wildly at his mask until Gwen helped him take it off.

"Jack!" he gasped, grabbing Jack around the upper arm and pulling him down toward him. "I'm sorry, Jack, I—"

But his eyes rolled back in his head and he started convulsing. Jack froze in panic, then shouted at Rhys over his shoulder to get the doctor. He held onto Ianto, but the seizure passed quickly, leaving Jack with a racing heart as Dr. Tomlinson came running in.

"Rhys said he was seizing?" the doctor asked, and Jack nodded, stepping away. The doctor checked Ianto's temperature, and it happened again.

"It's the fever, we need to bring it down." He rattled off instructions to the nurse who had accompanied him, and Jack stood back, giving them space to work. He was terrified. He'd rarely felt as helpless as he did at that moment, and he brought his fist to his mouth to hold back the tears of fear and worry. Gwen appeared beside him and took his other hand, squeezing tight, but did not say anything.

It was as they were stabilizing Ianto that Mickey ran into the room, saw what was happening, and swore before turning to Jack.

"We've got more trouble," he said. Jack pushed him into the corridor with Gwen.

"What's going on?"

"They're coming," said Mickey.

"Who?" asked Gwen. "The 456?"

Mickey shook his head, but Jack answered immediately. "The government we just saved. It's another black ops team like the one that tried to kill us, isn't it?"

Gwen gasped as Mickey nodded. "They must have traced the signal from the transmitter."

"Shit," said Jack, starting to pace. "We can't let them take us, but even more importantly, we can't let them inside the bunker. There's no telling what they'd do to the residents."

"We can fight them, Jack," said Gwen, but Jack shook his head.

"No, it puts everyone else here at risk. We've done nothing wrong, and if we fight them, then they'll have something on us. This is their witch hunt and now that we've saved their lives, it needs to end."

"You're not planning to—" she started, and he pierced her with a direct gaze.

"As a matter of fact, that's exactly what I was thinking. I'm the one they really want, Gwen! I'm the witch! If I give them what they want and point out how we just saved their children from drug-addicted aliens, they should leave this place alone."

"Should?" asked Gwen, arms crossing over her chest. "Jack, they put a bomb in your belly! There is no should about this! They will do anything, they've proved that."

"I have to try," he said. "They can't kill me, after all."

She pushed him in the chest. He pretended to be hurt, and she stamped her foot. He pulled her into an embrace so she couldn't slap him. "I need to do this. I can protect you, all of you."

"You've already done that," she whispered. "When is it going to end?"

"I don't know," he sighed, kissing her on the top of her head. "If they've got any sense, they'll let me go. We need to get in touch with Buckingham, that might help."

"What!" she exclaimed. "I've never spoken to Buckingham, I don't know how to contact the bloody Queen!"

"I'll show you," he said. "How long, Mickey?"

"Two hours at the most, mate," he said. "That's not a lot of time to pack up and run."

"That's not what we're going to do," said Jack. "This is."

And he did what he had to do: he kept going, even when all the odds were against him.

* * *

A covert operation against an isolated strand of rock in the middle of the Bristol Channel was apparently unnecessary; when the black ops team arrived at Flat Holm they arrived in two black helicopters, rappelling to the ground with weapons ready. There were twenty of them now, their leader limping from a third helicopter that landed on a flat patch of land. With one leg bandaged and her arm in a sling, Johnson looked pissed off as she marched toward the bunker.

Jack stood on the highest point of Flat Holm, waving a white towel. She hobbled up to him, the climb no doubt making her even more furious as she was breathing heavily by the time she reached him. The soldiers fanned out around her, twenty assault rifles pointed at Jack.

"Harkness," she snapped.

"Agent Johnson," he replied pleasantly. "Nice of you to visit."

"This isn't a social call," Johnson said. "I'm here for you and your team."

"Well, I'm ready," he said. "Let's go."

"Where's the rest of your merry band?" she asked. "Inside the bunker?"

"They're not coming," Jack replied. "The original order was for me, so you get me."

"I'm here for Torchwood. That includes all of you, even Jones."

"Not happening," Jack snapped.

"You don't get to dictate terms, Harkness," Johnson replied. She motioned at her team to move out, but Jack wagged a finger at them as if he were in charge; it was all about the show, after all.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he called out, pointing at his wrist strap. "Set one foot into my bunker and I'll blow the entrances sky high."

"Your team is in there," Johnson pointed out. "How the hell is that protecting them, by threatening to blow them up?"

Jack rolled his eyes, thinking of Ianto the entire time. "They're not sitting in the doorway having a fag. They're secure, along with the other residents."

Johnson cocked her head at Jack's word. "Residents?"

"This is a private medical facility," Jack said quietly, stepping toward her. "There are almost two dozen men and women in there who are trying to live out their lives in peace, free of pain."

"Torchwood experiments gone wrong?" she asked sarcastically. Jack shook his head.

"No, just bad luck. We take care of them. My people are in there, yes, but I don't think you'll kill that many innocents to get to them, not when it's me you want."

"I don't really care about your sick and innocent residents, Harkness," Johnson snapped. "You're a coward if you're letting your team hide behind them."

"Maybe," Jack agreed, throwing her off. "Maybe you really don't care about taking innocent lives already destroyed by the Rift, but I don't think the Queen would appreciate it. This facility is under her direct purview." He was lying through his teeth and could only imagine Ianto's reaction, but Jack had connections. If Johnson touched Flat Holm, he'd make sure the Queen knew about it and acted accordingly. Even after all that had happened that week, Jack felt like he held the upper hand in the game now. They might not think so—they might try to sweep him away again, bury him with the past—but he still held an ace or two and was determined to not only use them, but win the game.

"You're a bastard," Johnson said through gritted teeth. Jack stepped closer and let his casual demeanor fall.

"And you're a fool!" he hissed. "Do you really not see what's going on? Take me and I'll tell you everything. Stop being such a blind follower and think for yourself for once!"

"That's not what I was trained to do," she replied evenly. "That's not my job."

"And what is your job?" he demanded. "This time?"

"To bring you in for questioning," she replied. "All of you."

"You don't get all of us," he said. "You get me. So either take the deal or get out of here before you lose your entire team." He paused and let his lips curl into a sneer. "Again."

"I take you and leave the rest of your team behind?" she asked skeptically. "That's a deal?"

"You get me, you leave Flat Holm alive, and you don't ever return. That's the deal."

"For now," she replied. He grabbed her by the front of her vest. Ten men stepped forward, guns raised, and he dropped her.

"Forever," he growled. "Or everyone dies."

"What's to stop me from killing you right now and going in while you're dead?" she asked. Jack grinned ferally. She was good, he had to give her that, but he was better.

"My team," he said quietly. He tapped his wrist strap. "I'm not the only one with control of the situation. They're ready, watching, and armed. Take one step toward that bunker, and your men are dead." He leaned next to her ear. "We knew you were coming. You think you're good? This time we were better. Take the deal."

She stared at him, as if trying to decide the truth of his words.

"Cuff him!" she barked. She turned to the nearest soldier. "Jackson, take nine men and fan out. You're staying. No one comes or goes from this rock, understand?"

The soldier nodded, turned to motion at several others, and they moved away. The rest of the soldiers ran toward the returning helicopters. Three stayed with Jack, cuffing him with his hands behind his back and marching him toward the third helicopter with Johnson in the lead. Jack glanced over his shoulder and hoped he had done the right thing. The crisis was over; he had saved the planet. There was no reason for Whitehall to want him or his team dead any longer. They needed Torchwood more than ever, and Jack would fight for their freedom.

One of the soldiers threw a bag over his head and shoved him into the helicopter. He had no idea where they were going, only how long it took to get there. Every time he tried to speak, he was hit hard and told to stop. When they landed, he was pushed on unsteady legs into a building and thrown into a cell. They removed the hood and with a sinking heart Jack realized he was back at Aston Down.

He remembered something Ianto had said about Johnson encasing him in concrete and started pounding on the door, demanding to speak to someone, anyone—Frobisher, the Prime Minister, the Queen. No one answered. He was given no food and no water. It was well past midnight when Jack finally stopped shouting and laid down on the bed bolted into the wall to regroup. He had died a gruesome death earlier and was finally feeling the fatigue. He needed something to eat, something to drink. Hell, he needed to go to the bathroom before he started pissing in his cell. And he needed to get out and talk to someone. He knew if he did, he'd be free. This wasn't right. They couldn't hold him, not when he had saved the world.

Jack dozed on and off for several hours. Every time he awoke, usually with a sharp start as he relived being shot or blown up, he stared out of the window into the dark hallway. No one came, and though Jack tried to fight it every time he laid back down, the nightmares returned. Facing the 456, being ripped open, and then the worst of all…losing Ianto.

What was happening in the outside world, at Flat Holm? Was Ianto getting better or getting worse? Had Frobisher found the anti-virus? Had he shared it? Jack hated not knowing what was going on. More than anything, he needed to know that Ianto was still alive. The virus was strong and deadly, and Ianto had gone into Thames House run down, stressed out, and injured. He was probably more susceptible than normal, and yet he had held on for so long. Jack wanted more than anything to be able to reassure himself that Ianto was all right, and more importantly, that Ianto didn't hate him for everything that had happened.

His last nightmare was the worst, and he refused to lie down again for fear of falling back into the terrifying dream of being converted, of watching as his own hands converted Ianto. The Welshman screamed as Jack inserted the wires into his brain, laid metal casings across pale flesh and burned them into Ianto's skin. Jack leaned forward to kiss the new Cyberman before him, only it wasn't Ianto Jones, it was Lisa Hallett...

Jack paced his cell, railing at himself for putting Ianto through that again. Of course he had collapsed when it was over. It was too much for any one human being to go through. Jack vowed to make it up to Ianto, murmuring a promise to himself as he closed his eyes. Only now his memories showed him Ianto, gun raised to Jack's head, pulling the trigger as Jack's brain was blown apart. Ianto had shot him, killed him…no, saved him…

With a growl he slammed the door and started shouting again. He shouted for hours and still saw no one, not a single soul. No food, no water, and finally Jack had to piss in the corner. He'd been held prisoner before, but always by the bad guys—not by his own government, the very people he had just saved. Falling onto the bed, Jack let his head fall between his knees, willing himself not to despair. He clung to his righteous anger instead, that he did not deserve this. He needed to be free. He needed to save Ianto.

He paced again, for hours it seemed, until he slumped beside the door, determined not to lose hope but feeling it slip away anyway. He was startled from another dark reverie by the sudden sound of the door being opened. Jumping to his feet, Jack found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Thinking it was Ianto there to break him out once more, Jack swore as the gun was followed by two soldiers who ordered him to stand against the wall. A young dark-skinned woman whom Jack did not recognize entered the cell; he saw two more soldiers stationed outside. She looked nervous, but there was a steely determination in her eyes that Jack immediately liked.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"You have a visitor," said another man from behind the woman. He appeared in charge, and Jack vaguely remembered him from his last stay at Aston Down only days ago. "And you have five minutes with her."

The man motioned the soldiers out and followed them with a precise turn. Jack was left alone with the woman, who stared at him, waiting for the door to shut behind her. As soon as it did, she released a breath.

"Captain Harkness?" she asked, and Jack thought he recognized her voice. He nodded, waiting for her to take the lead. He didn't think she was there to harm him, but he wasn't sure how she could help.

"My name is Lois, Lois Habiba. I work for the Home Office, for—"

"—for John Frobisher. We spoke on the phone." Now he remembered. Not only had Jack spoken to her, but Gwen had met Lois and made a useful contact. Jack was glad to put a face to the name.

"Yes, sir. I've also spoken to Ms. Cooper several times, sir. She informed me of the latest developments."

Jack nodded again. They were almost certainly being watched, possibly audio surveillance as well. Lois seemed smart, however, and did not reveal too much.

"I'm here at the request of Bridget Spears, Mr. Frobisher's personal assistant. She asked me to give you a message."

"Did she, now? I didn't think Bridget liked me much," Jack offered with a smile. Lois smiled back and seemed to relax.

"She did have some choice words about you, sir, but I suspect she's probably wrong. In fact, I believe Ms. Spears might be having a change of heart as well."

Jack leaned closer. "Saving the world does tend to do that," he murmured. Lois looked embarrassed.

"Yes, sir," she said, then cleared her throat. "She asked me to tell you that Mr. Frobisher is dead. He was gravely ill and doctors were unable to administer the anti-virus in time."

Jack blew out a frustrated breath as he stared at the floor; his one and only connection to Whitehall was dead, and Jack had little faith that anyone else was even thinking about Torchwood right now given the mess of things. He could be in prison for a long time, but for once he didn't have time. The virus was spreading, Frobisher was dead, and he needed the anti-virus. Ianto needed the anti-virus, before he died as well.

Wait. He glanced up. What had she said?  _Unable to_ administer _the anti-virus._  That meant…

Knowing they were most certainly being watched, Jack spoke carefully. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was rather hoping he could help us out."

Lois leaned closer and ducked her head. "I believe Ms. Spears is working on it. She would very much like to offer her condolences to Mrs. Frobisher when she's finished."

Jack understood immediately, and closed his eyes as he remembered. They'd taken Frobisher's family from him, and now he was dead. Jack's daughter and Ianto's sister were also still in hiding, though Jack was glad for that, knowing they were safe and couldn't be used against him after all that had happened. He tried not to think of how he would find them with Ianto unconscious and Bryan Wells dead. He'd have to pull some UNIT strings and cash in just about all of his favors.

"Yes," he said, nodding. "I can see why she would want to speak to them. I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Captain," said Lois. She leaned back and reached to scratch at her shoulder, her fingers reaching under her blouse. Jack caught a glimpse of her bra strap and was fairly certain she palmed something. She stood up but took one step and twisted on her ankle. Reaching down, she grabbed at the boots she was wearing and swore under her breath. Jack reached out to help her up, but she waved him away with an embarrassed smile.

"Bloody boots," she said with a forced laugh. "How embarrassing. It's a good thing my five minutes are up."

When she took another step, Jack saw a small vial appear from beneath the heel of her boot. He casually stepped toward it, tucking his hands into his pockets with a nod of acknowledgement.

"Thank you for coming," he said. He lowered his voice. "Stay safe and healthy."

"I'm trying," she said. "This is all a bit over my head, if you know what I mean."

"You've done great," Jack said, and he meant it. Lois had put her own life and career at risk several times to get them information. In his mind, he was already trying to recruit her. "Thank you again."

"You're welcome," she said, and knocked on the door to be let out. She turned and gave him a half smile. "Good luck." Then she was gone and the door shut behind her.

Jack sighed and dragged his foot carefully over toward the bench. Under the pretense of removing his shoes, he bent over and palmed the small vial Lois had dropped for him. Although some sort of weapon or even a lock pick might have been nice, Jack had no doubt it was the anti-virus. Lois had said Bridget Spears was working on getting Jack out of there, and it was obvious that in return she wanted Jack to release Frobisher's family.

Which Jack would do, as soon as he was released and figured out how to find them.

Spears had also sent the anti-virus, apparently fulfilling Jack's request of her boss. Why, he couldn't begin to guess. He wasn't kidding when he'd told Lois he was sure Bridget Spears hated him. He couldn't remember a single time he'd got her to smile in all his visits to Whitehall. So she certainly wasn't doing it for Jack personally. He could only assume that Spears had realized the truth of the situation and the error of the government's ways and hoped to reward Torchwood for their service with this one last request Jack had made of John Frobisher.

Unfortunately, it was several more hours before anyone came back to his cell. Jack grew more and more agitated, knowing he had the cure yet couldn't get it to Ianto. He pounded on the door again, screamed and yelled. He was lying on the bed trying not to despair when the door opened again. Three soldiers came in and surrounded him. Johnson followed, still limping with her arm in a sling.

"Get up," she snapped. "They're ready for you."

"Who's ready for me?" Jack demanded, but he was grabbed and pushed out of the cell. Thrown into a van, he was glad that he wasn't blindfolded this time, but the soldiers holding his weapons on him were no better a sight.

"Where are we going?" Jack asked, and to his surprise, Johnson answered.

"MI-5," she replied. "Thames House is still under quarantine and Whitehall is crawling with bureaucrats and reporters."

"Who wants to see me?"

Johnson was silent for a moment. "The new Prime Minister," she finally replied. No more questions were answered, and the drive to London fell silent. Jack tried to plan his words, but all he could think about was Ianto, sick at Flat Holm. He needed to get him the anti-virus before it was too late. He wasn't sure what he would do if Ianto died because of him.

Still handcuffed, Jack was led through an underground entrance into the MI-5 building, his guards surrounding him closely. He was not taken to an interrogation room as expected, but to a small conference room instead, where several unfamiliar people sat with a few that Jack recognized, including Colonel Oduya from UNIT.

The meeting was cordial but to the point. Jack was introduced to the new heads of government and asked what he had done to defeat the 456. Before he answered, he demanded to know more about the flu and what was being done for the victims, all the while thinking about Ianto and hoping he was still alive at Flat Holm. Frobisher had indeed tracked down the anti-virus and it was already being administered. Jack tried not to finger the tiny vial he'd hidden in his clothing.

He told the table, in clear detail, how he and his team had figured out what might destroy the 456. He told them how they had used an old cyber transmitter to send the damning transmission, leaving out the parts about it being implanted and him dying. When someone asked where they had obtained the cyber transmitter, he told them they had taken it from the Black Archive. Colonel Oduya looked torn between impressed and annoyed.

"How?" he demanded. "That archive is impossible to break into, yet alone break out of."

"The Doctor," said Jack. There was an uproar around the room from those who knew of him. Most demanded to know why he hadn't arrived sooner, and Jack found himself having to explain the Doctor's involvement, as well as lack of involvement, in a way that did not reveal too much.

"Where is the transmitter now?" asked another UNIT official.

"Destroyed," Jack said. "There was no other option but to destroy it."

"What aren't you telling us, Captain?" asked Oduya, leaning forward.

"You're playing with dangerous toys, Captain," said Jack. "Cyber-technology should not be in the hands of UNIT scientists who want to use it for other purposes. It has only one goal: upgrade."

"There were…complications, I take it?" asked Oduya. Jack remembered that the man had been at Canary Wharf, and nodded curtly. Oduya did not push him in front of the politicians, and for that Jack was glad. The general turned to the others.

"I believe that the blank page order on Captain Harkness and his team should be rescinded. They risked their lives to defeat the 456. And it is my understanding that it was Captain Harkness who pointed us toward the existence of the anti-virus for the current flu outbreak."

"Yes, sir," Jack murmured. The others around the table twittered until the new PM cleared her throat.

"You've done us a great service, Captain," she said. "I would apologize for the previous government's treatment of you and your team, but I suspect such words would sound hollow."

"A bit," Jack said. "But thank you. If you don't mind, I'd like to get back to that team. One of my men is gravely ill with the flu virus."

She frowned. "We have a lot to go over, Captain Harkness. From a complete debriefing of the events of the past week to a much-needed discussion of what happens to Torchwood. We need you in London."

Jack shook his head. "I need to go to Cardiff. One of my people is sick, two are injured, and one is still missing. When I left, they were surrounded by soldiers. And we need to start securing the remains of the Hub. There could be dangerous artifacts buried in the rubble."

"UNIT has already secured the area and will handle the Cardiff site, Captain," said Oduya. "With your oversight, of course."

Gritting his teeth, Jack nodded. "Thank you. But I still need to be in Cardiff. I can be back as soon as I know they're safe. Please. You don't know what they've through this week. I need to make sure they are alive and unharmed."

The Prime Minister glanced around the table and nodded. "Fine. See to your team. You can be in Cardiff by midnight. I expect you back in London first thing Monday morning, Captain. The Queen will no doubt wish to meet with you as well."

Jack nodded and hurried from the room as soon as the meeting ended. In some ways, he couldn't believe he was free to go. It had been well over twenty-four hours since he had left Flat Holm, and he'd had no word whatsoever on his team's status. As he moved through the corridor, he felt someone brush against him and press something into his hand. It was one of the UNIT officers who had been sitting in on the meeting, and he was holding a mobile phone. It was as if the officer was reading his mind, and Jack might have hugged the man if he weren't in such a hurry to get back to his team.

"Thank you," he said, with as much heartfelt sincerity as he could given how worried he was. The other man nodded.

"I'm sure Mr. Wells would have done the same," said the officer. He smiled crookedly. "He probably would have had you out sooner, but the rest of us do what we can."

Jack shook his hand and noticed the man's rank. "He was a remarkable man, Captain. I'm sorry for UNIT's loss."

"Thank you. He was a good friend, too," said the captain, looking sad. Jack felt even worse, that Ianto's handler had got mixed up in this mess and lost his life. Then he remembered one of the many things Bryan had done to help them.

"I'm sorry for your personal loss as well. Were you familiar with his work?" Jack asked carefully. The captain narrowed his eyes.

"I was, yes," he said. "Why?"

Jack leaned closer and lowered his voice. "He sent several people to a safe house for us, but I'm afraid with him gone, I've no idea how to track them down."

The captain nodded. "I'll look into it. I believe the situation is contained now and they should be free to leave. I'll call you with the information."

"Thank you, Captain—?" Jack left it open, hoping to get the man's name.

"Captain Dalton," the officer replied. Jack shook hands with the man once more, vaguely wondering if there was any connection to Colonel Dalton, and how exactly the Captain knew Bryan Wells. Had he once been part of Broadsword as well?

"Thank you, Captain Dalton. If you don't mind, I really need to go."

"I understand," said the captain, holding out a set of car keys. "See to Mr. Jones and your team. I suspect I'll be assigned to the Cardiff cleanup, so I will most likely see you next week." He turned to leave. "And tell Mr. Jones he still has a job, if he's interested. He may even get a promotion."

Jack grinned, but it was hiding his biggest fear. Was Ianto even still alive? What would happen next? Would he go back to UNIT, or would he stay with what was left of Torchwood? Would he leave Jack once more, or could they be together again?

It was the only thing he could think about as he drove back to Cardiff in the hired car provided for him, the anti-virus held tight in his hands.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hadn't planned on dropping another cliffhanger after that last one, sorry! I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, however. I enjoyed bringing Lois in and hope you did too. Still a lot more to go. Thank you to Taamar for looking this over and to everyone who continues to read and review this story. I appreciate it so much!
> 
>  


	21. Day Seven - Jack

Day Seven - Jack

Jack sped through the English countryside toward Wales, desperately wishing he had the Torchwood SUV. With the lights running, he could have gone through so many traffic signals, and speed limits would be little more than guidelines. As it was, he kept it within reason, not wanting to be pulled over when Ianto's life depended on the anti-virus clutched in his hands for the past two hours.

As soon as his mysterious UNIT benefactor—Captain Dalton, if he remembered correctly—had handed him the mobile and keys to a hired car, Jack had dialed the phone Gwen had at Flat Holm. She'd answered immediately, only to tell him they were no longer at Flat Holm, but at Cardiff General.

Ianto was in critical condition.

Jack tried not to think too hard as he drove through the night. Gwen hadn't called back to tell him the worst, so he had to assume Ianto was still alive and that the anti-virus would provide the cure he needed. They hadn't gone through hell over the last seven days for it to end now. He'd had plenty of time to think trapped in his cell at Aston Down, and the frantic drive to Cardiff solidified his feelings. He wanted Ianto back in his life in every way possible. Friend, lover, coworker, everything. He couldn't lose him again.

He had his doubts. Ianto had been doing fine without him, and Jack had put him through so much over the past week that he worried Ianto might not want anything to do with him. Ianto had left his cover to come back to Torchwood, but in the process he'd lost practically everything and had almost died. He'd been shot and run out of his flat; he'd broken into and out of a secure military base; he'd faced down a three-headed alien before ending up in the firefight where his friend and handler had been killed; he'd snuck into the Black Archive and met the Doctor; watched Jack undergo brain surgery that had resulted in his cyber-conversion, shot Jack to stop that conversion, and after all that, fallen victim to the alien flu virus.

It was a lot, even for Torchwood.

Why would Ianto want to come back to that life? He'd already left it behind once. Their brief conversations about Ianto's disappearance had given Jack the impression that there was more going on that he thought, though he still didn't understand Ianto's reasons for leaving. They may have fallen into one another's arms that night in the warehouse, and again in the morning, but Jack still sensed a reticence from Ianto that left him wondering where he stood. And now, after what the Welshman had been through at Flat Holm, would Ianto even want to see to him again, talk him again, let alone restart a relationship?

What Ianto had experienced at Canary Wharf and in its aftermath had been a nightmare of the worst sort, and Jack fully understood and accepted his part in it. Even as Ianto had begged for Lisa's life that horrible night, Jack hadn't listened, had only seen the danger and the threat. Though he'd been right, he had handled it in the worst way possible. He'd shown no empathy, no compassion, nothing, because at the time, all he'd felt was fear, anger, and betrayal. It had destroyed any fledging relationship he'd hoped for with Ianto, and it had taken them months to regain one another's trust.

And now Jack had forced Ianto to go through it again, to watch someone he cared about be lost to the metal monsters. Trapped behind the cyber-programming, Jack remembered more than anything the look of horror on Ianto's face. Of terror and anger, and most of all, of heartbreak. He'd seen that look on Ianto's face when he'd gazed at his doomed girlfriend; Jack had never thought Ianto would look at him in the same way. And yet Ianto had kept his promise, had ended the torment for Jack when Jack had needed him, even though he had been unable to do the same for Lisa. Ianto had faced his demons and won, but would he ever want to look at Jack again after what Jack had forced him to do?

Jack tried to put it from his mind as he sped through Cardiff. He concentrated on getting to the hospital and getting the anti-virus to Ianto, nothing else. There would be time later to worry about the repercussions of what had happened at Flat Holm; first Ianto had to get better. Jack couldn't lose him now.

Gwen met him at the door and they raced through the empty corridors. It was late at night, and the hospital was dim and quiet. When he got to Ianto's room, Jack stopped short in the doorway. Rhys was sitting in a chair next to Ianto's bed, head down with elbows on his knees. Ianto was hooked up to so many machines that Jack worried he was too late. Dr. Tomlinson entered right behind him and was all business.

"Do you have it?" he demanded, and Jack handed him the vial. The doctor shook it and raised it to the light, as if examining it in such a way would give him insight into the contents. He turned to Jack. "You're sure this is it? It will cure him and not kill him?"

"What choice do we have?" Jack asked, staring at the bed. The doctor nodded curtly and inserted it into a syringe. He then plunged it into Ianto's IV and waited. He nodded as the anti-virus worked its way into Ianto's veins.

"No immediate negative reaction," he said. "That's good. Now we just have to monitor him while we wait. An anti-virus works by replicating and attacking the real virus. Ianto is extremely sick. It could take a while."

"I'll stay with him," said Jack, still unable to take his eyes from Ianto. Rhys jumped up from the chair and moved it closer to the bed, offering it to Jack. Jack nodded his thanks, sitting down and taking Ianto's hand. For a while no one moved or spoke until Rhys cleared his throat.

"Come on, Gwen," he said. "Let's go down to next room for a bit."

"I want to be here, Rhys," Gwen protested, and Jack heard Rhys whispering to her. She sighed, then nodded.

"Jack?" she asked quietly, and Jack looked up at her. "We'll be next door, all right? You come get us if you need anything."

"Can you let Martha and Mickey know what's going on?" he asked, and she nodded. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said, his voice rough. "Thank you for getting him here, for staying with him."

"You got him the cure," she said, her own voice cracking. "Now it's up to him to get better."

"Now it's up to him," Jack repeated softly. It seemed like he had just been sitting at Ianto's bedside speaking to him, when in reality it had been almost thirty-six hours since they'd arrived back at Flat Holm and discovered the reality behind the flu outbreak. So much had happened, from Ianto's illness to Jack's conversion. How would they ever recover?

Gwen and Rhys quietly left the room, but Dr. Tomlinson stayed. Jack finally glanced up at him.

"Thank you, Lionel," he said. "For helping to get him here. I know it couldn't have been easy."

The doctor pulled up a chair on the other side of Ianto. "It was interesting, to say the least," he murmured.

"Gwen said it was a bit more cloak and dagger than you're used to," Jack said. He was really only half interested in the story, but given the unlikelihood of Ianto regaining consciousness immediately, it seemed a decent way to take his mind off watching and waiting.

"I'm used to loading my patients into an ambulance," Dr. Tomlinson replied. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles. "Not supporting them through underground tunnels and sneaking them onto a boat, hoping we didn't get shot the entire time."

Jack glanced up in surprise. "That bad?" he asked. He sat up to listen. Something serious had happened. The doctor nodded, clearly glad he had Jack's attention.

"Ianto's condition worsened after you left. By early morning he was critical, and there was nothing I could do at Flat Holm. We'd heard nothing from you, but we knew the facility was still being watched and suspected any attempt to remove Mr. Jones from the island would be met with resistance."

"I'm sure they would have stopped you immediately," Jack replied. "How did you get off the island then?"

"One of the nurses, Tom, knew of a tunnel system that went down to the docks. So we bundled Mr. Jones up as warm as we could and made our way to the water. We managed to board the boat, row it away from the island, and start it in the dark. We made it to shore by sunrise, and once we were on shore, a taxi brought us here and I was able to get us admitted quickly. Fortunately my name was not associated with Torchwood."

Jack agreed. Had Dr. Tomlinson had any official connection with Torchwood, he would likely have been detained immediately. He tried to imagine what it had been like: Ianto's condition worsening, knowing they were being guarded yet being unable to treat him at Flat Holm, fleeing into the dark. "Was he conscious?" he asked softly, still holding Ianto's hand tight.

"Yes, he was able to walk on his own." The doctor sighed. "I had to pump him full of drugs. There was no way we could carry him out, he needed to be mobile and alert. He crashed pretty hard when we arrived, but he's fought the entire time. In some ways, he's lucky to be alive." He paused and waited for Jack to look at him. "I did everything I could, Jack. I hope your little miracle cure works, for his sake."

"So do I," whispered Jack. He cleared his throat and glanced back at Ianto. "What about the others?" he asked.

"They're all fine. They've given us two rooms with strict instructions to stay here, a sort of pseudo-quarantine, if you will." He paused, and Jack sensed the doctor watching him thoughtfully. "You're not going to tell me where you got it, are you?"

Jack surprised him with a grin. "Actually, it was slipped to me by a government informant while I was being held at a secure military base," he said. The doctor appeared skeptical, and Jack couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. "It's the truth. When I left the island, they threw me into a cell. No food, no water, nothing. It was probably a good sixteen hours before anyone came to the door, and it was our contact in London. She had it hidden in her bra and slipped it to me with her shoe."

"I really do feel as if I'm in the middle of a spy movie," the doctor murmured.

"Oh, it gets better," said Jack, warming up to it. He gazed affectionately at Ianto. "The first time they had me locked up—after they destroyed our base—Ianto talked his way in and broke us out by blowing up a car. Talk about James Bond!" He laughed as he remembered that first kiss with Ianto at Aston Down, hoping more than anything there would be more.

"What happened after you were slipped the anti-virus?" asked the doctor, drawing Jack back from his memories. Jack shrugged this time; it was hardly as exciting as everything else that had happened.

"They let me stew for a few more hours before they said I was wanted in London. I met the new Prime Minister," the doctor looked startled at that, "and was released after a long debriefing. And now I'm here."

The doctor was silent for another moment. He stood up and checked Ianto's vital signs, then nodded to Jack. "It'll take time for the anti-virus to replicate and clear his system, Captain. You might want to get some rest. It sounds like you had a long day. I know I did, so I'm going to go kip in the other room for a few hours. Call me if anything happens, even something good."

"I will," said Jack. "And Lionel? Thanks again."

"You're welcome," the doctor said softly as he slipped out, leaving Jack alone with Ianto for the first time in days. He gazed at Ianto's face, still so pale, thinking maybe, just maybe, he looked less tired, less drawn. It was more what he hoped to see than the reality, but Jack told himself to stay strong and believe. Ianto needed him.

He cleared his throat and tried talking to him, just as he had back at Flat Holm, but found his voice simply wouldn't work. The words didn't come as easily as they had come before. What could he say, with Ianto so much closer to death's door, all because of him? He wanted to beg the Welshman to fight it, to stay with him, but at the same time, Jack was terrified that Ianto would want nothing to do with him when he regained consciousness. He bowed his head and took deep breaths to keep the tears at bay, forcing himself not to think about the possibility that even if Ianto recovered, Jack might still lose him.

His head fell to the bedside and Jack jerked awake with a start. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and needed to rest. Yet leaving Ianto's bedside was not an option. Running his hands through Ianto's hair, Jack was surprised to find two blue eyes gazing tiredly at him. He leaned down to kiss Ianto's forehead.

"Welcome back," he murmured. "Mind if I join you?"

Ianto nodded once and let his eyes slip closed. Jack didn't bother to call Dr. Tomlinson for such a short period of consciousness. Instead, he slipped off his boots and moved to the other side of the bed. He climbed up beside Ianto, settling on top of the covers. Ianto shifted just enough for Jack to wrap his arms around him. He laid his head on the pillow beside Ianto, kissed his neck, and was asleep within moments. Above him, the monitors watching over the Welshman beeped and whirred as his heart rate settled, his blood pressure stabilized, and his fever slowly came down.

The two men who had saved the world slept peacefully, their worries forgotten for a few hours of much needed rest. What the morning would bring, only time would tell.

* * *

"Should he really be doing that right now?"

"Oh, leave them be, Rhys."

"I'm just not sure these beds are made for two, love."

"And I'm sure they need this."

"Unfortunately, Ms. Cooper, I do need to examine my patient."

There was the distinctive sound of someone clearing their throat, and Jack opened bleary eyes to find Gwen, Rhys, and Dr. Tomlinson all standing around the hospital bed. Gwen looked like she might cry again, Rhys looked slightly embarrassed, and Dr. Tomlinson appeared somewhat exasperated. Beside him, Ianto began to stir as well. Jack was sorely tempted to close his eyes and curl up closer to the Welshman.

"Good morning," said the doctor loudly. "I know you're comfortable, but I need to see Mr. Jones, Captain."

Jack groaned softly before placing a kiss to the back of Ianto's neck and sitting up. He rubbed at his face as Ianto turned over, glancing around at everyone in confusion. He motioned to the mask over his face and Dr. Tomlinson took it off. Ianto's voice was dry and croaky when he spoke.

"What's going on?" he asked. He glanced at Jack. "Why are you in my bed?"

Jack laughed. It was obvious that Ianto was feeling better. His eyes were brighter and his face had more color. He was already struggling to sit up, so Jack scrambled to help him, jumping off the bed and grabbing another pillow to help support him. The doctor handed him some water. Ianto sipped it greedily and sounded much better when he spoke again.

"Seriously," he said. "What's going on? It is all over, everything?"

"It's all over," said Gwen, clinging to Rhys with a huge grin on her face. "Everything's going to be all right."

Jack looked from her to Dr. Tomlinson, who had immediately started poking and prodding Ianto. "How do you feel, Mr. Jones?" asked the doctor. Ianto turned to look at him.

"Better," he said. "Not normal, but better."

"You look better," nodded the doctor. "And all your numbers are supporting it. Your lungs sound clearer, your temperature is going down. I need to do some bloodwork, but I think you're past the worst of it." He glanced up at Jack. "Congratulations, Captain. It worked."

"What worked?" asked Ianto, turning to Jack. "What happened? They said you'd left, that Johnson took you."

"They let me go last night," said Jack. "I brought the anti-virus. You're going to be all right."

Ianto stared at him, then drew a shaky breath before letting his eyes slip closed. "Thank you," he murmured, his relief obvious. His eyes flipped open in panic. "But what about the others? Are they all right? Are  _you_  all right? Did they kill you? No, that was me. I killed you. Oh god, Jack, I'm—"

Jack stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. "Calm down, please. Gwen's right. It's all over and everything is going to be fine. Trust me."

"I'll trust you when you tell me what happened!" Ianto exclaimed. "To you, to me, to the 456, everything!"

Jack frowned at the doctor. "We defeated the 456. You don't remember?"

"I…" Ianto paused, looking confused. "I remember the end…Lisa…so much blood…" He trailed off again, his eyes slipping closed, his lips pursed tight. The monitor above him beeped. Dr. Tomlinson glanced up sharply.

"Calm down, Mr. Jones," he said, taking Ianto's hand. "You've been through a lot and need to let your body rest. There's nothing to get upset about right now."

Ianto looked tense, his jaw tight as he shook his head. Jack could see Ianto's chest rising and falling quickly.

"You should go," Dr. Tomlinson said. "I think he needs to be alone."

Rhys dragged Gwen out immediately over her soft protests, but Jack stayed. "I'm not leaving," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Dr. Tomlinson took a breath, obviously preparing to do battle once more.

"Need I remind you, Captain, that you are at least partially responsible for his emotional state right now?" he snapped, and Jack felt like he'd been slapped. There was a sharp intake of breath from Ianto, who shook his head as a tear slipped from behind closed eyes.

"I'm sorry, Jack," he whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

Ignoring the doctor, Jack rushed around the bed to take Ianto's face in his hands. "No! Don't apologize," he said. "You have nothing to apologize for. Please, open your eyes. Take a deep breath with me and let me see those baby blues."

"I'm a monster," Ianto murmured, shaking his head free of Jack's hands. "I killed you."

"You saved me!" Jack exclaimed, his voice cracking. "Please, Ianto. Don't do this. You're strong. We can get through this, together."

Ianto's eyes snapped open at Jack's last word. He looked lost and panicked and utterly defeated. "No," he said, shaking his head and once again pulling away from Jack's touch. "No," he repeated, and Jack's heart broke. "I can't. You can't. We can't." He sucked in a shallow breath, obviously close to hyperventilating.

Dr. Tomlinson pushed Jack aside, needle in hand. "I think you should leave, Jack," he said softly and with more compassion than Jack would have expected at that moment. He slid the needle into Ianto's IV, and almost immediately the Welshman began to relax. His eyes slipped closed and he laid back down, curling in on himself and turning away from Jack. Jack stared at him, stricken.

"I've given him a sedative," the doctor said quietly. "In the hallway, please."

Gwen and Rhys were outside pacing when Jack stepped out. "What's going on?" Gwen demanded. "Is he all right? What's happened?"

"He's upset and confused," said Dr. Tomlinson, frowning at the floor. "Not unusual given the circumstances." He gave Jack a pointed look.

"What does he mean, Jack?" Gwen asked, and Jack sighed. It was his fault. It was always his fault.

"He saw me and panicked," Jack said softly. He turned to the doctor. "I should leave, shouldn't I?"

The doctor once again looked sad for Jack. "I think it would be better if someone else was with him when he wakes up in a few hours."

"No!" said Gwen, stepping between them. "You can't do that. Ianto needs Jack! You can't keep them apart."

"His blood pressure went through the roof, Gwen," Jack said wearily. "He started hyperventilating. He wants nothing to do with me." He sounded as defeated as he felt.

"No, you listen to me, Jack Harkness." Gwen poked him in the chest. Here was the righteous anger he'd been waiting days for. He let it wash over him; he deserved it, after all.

"You love him," she said. Jack saw Rhys and the doctor exchange startled glances. "And he loves you. You are not going to let what happened on that bloody island come between you. Not again."

"It's not that easy, Gwen," Jack started, but she cut him off.

"Yes, it is. You both need to stop feeling guilty and sorry for yourselves and you'll be fine. You did what you had to do, and so did he, but it's over. Ianto is back and you can't let him go again." She looked on the verge of tears, which for some reason made Jack angry. What did she know about him, about Ianto? What did she know about the guilt? Why did she care so much? He stepped into her personal space.

"You know nothing, Gwen," he said softly. To her credit, she stood her ground. He leaned in closer. "You know nothing about us, about what we've been through. If you did, you'd know there are some things you can't fix with a plaster and a kiss."

"I know you can fix this," she insisted, staring into his eyes, challenging him. That's what he had hired her for, wasn't it? Only he hadn't hired her to challenge his private life, and Jack opened his mouth to retort, to really let loose on her, when Rhys stepped between them.

"That's enough," he said, though he sounded shaky. "Gwen, you sit with Ianto. He doesn't want to see my ugly mug when he wakes up. Jack, are you hungry? I could really go for a fry-up."

Jack stared at Gwen before dropping his eyes and nodding. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and turned without a word, striding down the hallway away from Gwen, away from Ianto. He heard the others talking behind him, but ignored it, because he suddenly needed to get out, get away. He needed fresh air and sunlight and open spaces.

He sprinted down the stairs, through the front entrance, and into the cool morning air. The abrupt change calmed him, and he let the peaceful quiet envelope him and fill him, until he opened his eyes to find Rhys standing beside him.

"Better, mate?" he asked quietly, and Jack nodded. "Good, let's get some breakfast."

He started down the street, but Jack stopped him. "Actually, I think I'd like to go to Flat Holm. I can clean up, check on Martha and Mickey, get something to eat there."

Rhys studied him carefully. "All right. Want me to call you a cab?"

"No, I'll walk to the dock." He held out his hand. "Thanks, Rhys. I appreciate it."

Rhys held onto his hand. "You'll be back soon, yeah?"

Jack forced himself to smile even though the question cut deep. "This afternoon. I promise."

"All right," he replied, nodding slowly and studying Jack carefully. "You'd better. I don't know about Ianto, but I know Gwen would be heartbroken if you did a runner right now."

"I won't," Jack said, his voice cracking. He laughed bitterly. "I might be tempted, but I won't. I've been called back to London tomorrow, so until then, I'm staying. I'll come by this afternoon."

"I'll let them know," said Rhys. "You stay safe, Jack."

"I will. Thanks again, Rhys."

Jack turned away and started the long walk. It would give him time to think. He had so much to think about—too much. The past, the present, the future. At Flat Holm he could clean up and change out of the clothes he'd been wearing for days. He would eat, he would rest, and most importantly, he would climb the tallest hill to gaze out at the sea and try to calm his racing mind and mend his broken heart.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon and Jack was sitting on his hill, staring out across the Bristol Channel. The city had no idea how close they had come to losing so many of their children. They were even luckier to be spared the flu epidemic gripping London. Jack knew that he needed to go back to the hospital, to Ianto, but he wasn't sure he could face the man after Ianto's earlier reaction upon awakening. It was as if by avoiding the inevitable rejection, he could put it off until it didn't hurt as much.

He also needed a plan. As much as he wanted to curl up in a hotel somewhere and let the world move on by itself after all that it had done to him, Jack knew he couldn't. The Hub had been destroyed, but he would be meeting in London the next day to discuss the future of Torchwood. It was hard to think about going back. He had been with Torchwood for over a hundred years, and they had taken it from him in one blistering, agonizing instant. The Hub was gone, Jake was still missing or dead, Martha and Mickey and Ianto injured. Why would he go back after all that?

With a sigh, Jack tossed some rocks into the water again, watching the waves ripple outward. He knew he would go back, deep down the decision had been made. Only the smallest part of him wanted to return, but his sense of duty and obligation had become so honed after leading Torchwood Three for almost a decade that he couldn't say no. The Rift still needed to be monitored, the people of Cardiff protected. And perhaps even more importantly, the remains of the Hub needed to be secured. Though he and Ianto had been unable to get far in the ruins, Jack had no doubt that the deeper parts of the Hub had survived, and that dangerous alien technology could fall into the wrong hands if the site wasn't excavated. He couldn't let that happen.

What would Torchwood look like now? There was no Hub, so they would need to rebuild from the ground up. Would Mickey and Martha return? Frankly, Jack was surprised Martha had stayed for as long as she had, almost a year. She could ask to return to UNIT anytime, and Jack would let her. He wondered if Mickey would follow her.

He would let Gwen leave as well, if she asked. She was pregnant now, which meant wrestling Weevils and other dangerous aliens was strictly off limits. She'd be almost immediately restricted, but to what? They had no desks, no archives, nothing. And with a family on the way, would Gwen want to stay with Torchwood or would he finally lose her?

And then there was Ianto. Had the past week pushed him past his limit? Would he run again, leaving both Torchwood and UNIT behind this time? Jack wanted Ianto by his side, he knew that. As he looked across the water, he'd never felt so sure about anyone as he was about Ianto Jones. Gwen had been right back in the hospital, but did Ianto feel the same? Was it enough?

Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a text message on the mobile phone Captain Dalton had pressed into his hands in London. It was from an unknown number, an address in Wimbledon that Jack did not recognize. He frowned, wondering at the significance before it dawned on him: Alice. Steven. Ianto's family. Frobisher's family.

Shit.

Leaving the island immediately, he took a cab back to the hospital, trying not to worry. He replied to Dalton, who informed him that John Frobisher's family had been released, but that he was waiting for word from Jack on the others. Which meant they were safe, and probably stewing about being held.

Ianto had briefly awoken while he'd been gone, but was asleep once more. Jack explained the situation to Gwen, then left for Wimbledon before she could argue. The car he'd used to drive pell-mell to Cardiff was still in the car park, and he drove as fast as he could back to London, screwing himself up for another confrontation at the safe house where his daughter and Ianto's sister had been hidden away almost a week ago. He was certain he'd get an earful from Alice, and suspected Ianto's sister might have words as well.

As expected, Alice was furious. She barely listened to Jack's explanation before storming out, determined to make her own way home with Steven. Jack couldn't blame her; she'd been locked up for six days with no word from him, no explanation, nothing. He let her go, determined to see her when she was calmer. He would tell her everything and make her understand; he wasn't going to lose her and Steven too.

Rhiannon Davies was less confrontational than Alice, though equally as angry in her own, understated way. Very much like Ianto, when Jack thought about it. She gathered the family's things while Jack stood awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure what to say or do after the shouting match with Alice.

"Where's my brother?" she finally asked quietly. "Is he all right?"

Jack swallowed and nodded. "He's at Cardiff General, recovering from the virus that hit London."

Her eyes widened slightly. "So he's really mixed up in all this? With the government and the children and the epidemic and everything?"

"More than you could possibly imagine," Jack murmured, taking her hands in his own. "Your brother saved the word."

"Get out," she said, shaking her head and stepping away. "You're taking the piss."

"I'm not. He's been working with UNIT for the last eight months and was in the thick of it. That's how he got sick—he was exposed at Thames House."

"Christ," she murmured. "Ianto Jones, what have you been up to?" She glanced up at Jack, the look in her eyes suddenly fierce. "Can we see him? He has a lot of explaining to do."

"He's still very sick," Jack said, wondering how Ianto would react to his sister barging into his hospital room, demanding answers. "I can get you on the first train back to Cardiff tomorrow."

She shook her head. "I don't want to stay here another night. If it's over and Ianto is safe, I want to be back in my own house, my own bed."

Jack blew out a breath. He couldn't drive them back to Cardiff that night; frankly he was tempted to stay in London himself, but he needed to see Ianto, reassure himself that the Welshman really was getting better. And that Ianto didn't hate him, despite his earlier reaction.

"It's too late to hire a car," he said. "I can put you up for the night somewhere else if you prefer. I'll get word to Ianto that you're safe. He should be up for visitors tomorrow."

She wasn't happy, but in the end it was all he could do. He booked a room at a hotel across from the train station, then purchased the family tickets for the first train back to Cardiff. After sending them on their way in a cab, Jack glanced around the safe house, closed the door, and started the drive back to Cardiff alone, determined to make things better with Ianto before they began the arduous task of rebuilding after the disaster of the long, hard week.

He only hoped he could.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Taamar, who had to work hard on this one! Now you know that Ianto is alive and well. I hope his mental state makes sense. It seems only natural that after what happened at Flat Holm, he and Jack would have some issues. The next chapter will go back to Ianto's point of view. I hope you enjoyed reading this one. As always, thank you for reading!


	22. Day Eight and Nine - Ianto

Day Eight and Nine - Ianto

Ianto woke up alone in a strange bed on Monday morning. He was stiff and sore and utterly exhausted, but for the first time in days, he didn't feel ill and was fairly sure he wasn't going to die. As he sifted through hazy memories of the last several days, Ianto remembered he was still in the hospital. Glancing around, he wondered where everyone had gone, until he remembered that Gwen and Rhys had finally gone home to their flat, and that Jack had been called to London and had left before dawn. Despite the slight feeling of abandonment, he was glad for the time alone.

It had been exactly one week since he had first called Jack to warn him about the bomb in the Hub. It had been three days since they had defeated the 456 and Ianto had collapsed from the deadly virus the aliens had released at Thames House. Ianto had been unconscious for much of the time since, but once he had regained consciousness, he had demanded to know everything that had happened.

Gwen had told him he'd been admitted to the hospital after Dr. Tomlinson had declared him to be in critical condition, his breathing too labored and his fever too high to treat at Flat Holm any longer. He half remembered the dark walk through the tunnels beneath the island, tunnels not even Ianto had known about. Arriving at the hospital, he'd collapsed, but he remembered waking to find Jack in bed with him. He also remembered getting upset. Jack had obtained the anti-virus and saved him…but Ianto had completely panicked, terrified to see Jack after what had happened at Flat Holm. Apparently the doctor had given him a sedative; when he'd woken again, it had been Gwen holding his hand and smiling at him as she explained the events of the last few days. Jack had appeared late that night and stayed by his side once more, this time in a chair, but things had been horribly awkward between them.

And now Jack was in London. There was an enormous amount of fallout to deal with from the encounter with the 456 and the flu epidemic, and various government officials would no doubt want to speak with Ianto as well. A part of Ianto wished he could be there, by Jack's side dealing with it just as he had been all week, yet another part of him was glad to be in Cardiff, away from the spotlight, away from Jack. He was still recovering, both mentally and physically, and he needed time to think about what his future might hold now after everything that had happened.

He turned on the television as he picked at his congealed eggs and dry toast, deciding he was ready to catch up on all the official news that he had missed while he'd been running from the government and, later, in hospital. He almost spit out his coffee when he saw the breaking story: Parliament had sacked not only Prime Minister Brian Greene, but most of his cabinet as well. At least, those who hadn't died from the flu before the anti-virus had been found and cultured.

It was a stunning change coming just days after the 456 had left behind the remains of a planet shaken to its core. A different government now sat in Whitehall, one professing a new day and age of communication and accountability. They were doing well on the latter, at least: charges had been brought against Greene and most of his staff. Ianto suspected the former Prime Minister would try to foist it off on Torchwood or the Home Office, but apparently several other politicians had grown a backbone and were testifying against the government in exchange for leniency.

As he was turning over these new developments and wondering what they would mean for both Torchwood and himself, there was a knock at the door. Hoping it was one of the team who could give him more information, Ianto was surprised to see his sister Rhiannon. Jack had told him the night before that he'd found the safe house Bryan had used and had booked Ianto's family on the first train back to Cardiff, but Ianto had completely forgotten. He felt guilty for leaving them in the safe house without any word, and apologized profusely before she could berate him. She brushed him off, telling him she was glad to be safe and home after all the insanity on the telly…and then demanded to know what the hell was really going on.

And so he finally came clean about his life and told her everything, from joining Torchwood London and coming to Torchwood Cardiff after it was destroyed at Canary Wharf, to leaving the Hub and working for UNIT. He left out a lot details of course; he trusted her, but her husband could run his mouth. And he said nothing about Jack, because that would be another difficult conversation, and he was already exhausted by their current one.

When he came to the beginning of the current situation, he stopped, not sure where to begin. She started by asking him why they'd needed to be tucked away in the safe house, which gave Ianto the opening he needed. He told her that he'd been undercover at Thames House, that he'd found the orders to destroy Torchwood—stretching it to include himself—and had concluded that they would be safer in hiding. But he forgot that they'd spent the week with Alice and Steven Carter.

"Who's Jack Harkness?" Rhiannon asked, and Ianto groaned. He'd hoped to avoid talking about Jack, but there was nothing for it now. At least he wouldn't have to tell her everything—that he'd been shagging his male boss, that said boss had disappeared without a word for months, that they'd started dating when he'd returned only for Ianto to disappear this time. It was too complicated even for him most days.

"He's the head of Torchwood Cardiff," Ianto told her. "When I heard Torchwood was threatened, I called him. The bomb that went off by the Millennium Center? That was for them. I put his family in cover as well, knowing they were in even more danger than you."

"Why's that?" she asked. Ianto sensed she suspected more than she was letting on and sighed.

"Let's just say that Jack is very well-known in government circles, and the people targeting Torchwood would have gone to any lengths to silence him, including hurting his family. Putting you in hiding was a precaution; putting them in the safe house was a necessity to guarantee his free movement."

Rhiannon seemed to process this. "Alice said he was her father," she said. "Only when he came to the house yesterday, he looked younger than her!"

Ianto let his eyes slip closed. Of course Jack had actually gone to the safe house; he'd probably wanted to see his daughter and grandson. And of course Rhiannon would have noticed Jack's age compared to Alice, who wouldn't? "Jack is…different," he said. "Not quite like the rest of us."

"Ages well, does he?" she asked, and Ianto laughed.

"You could say that." There was silence, and when Ianto glanced at his sister, it was to find her looking concerned. "He's not an alien," he offered, and she rolled her eyes. Sometimes Ianto wondered who had picked up the habit from whom.

"I didn't think he was. Is he safe?"

"God, no," Ianto murmured, thinking back over the time he had known Jack. "He's one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy."

Rhiannon was watching him thoughtfully. "And you're involved with him, aren't you?"

"What?" said Ianto, caught off guard. He didn't want to talk about this now. He couldn't. He had no idea what was going on with Jack, what he  _wanted_  with Jack.

"My friend Susan mentioned something once, before you up and left, that she'd seen you having dinner at that French place in town by the memorial."

"So?"

"Having dinner, with a man, in a restaurant."

"So? You have dinner with Tina." Ianto remembered that particular date with Jack: it had been a fantastic dinner, followed by drinks at a local jazz club, and an incredible night at Ianto's flat.

"Susan said he was gorgeous, like a film star. Was it Jack Harkness?"

"He's my boss," said Ianto, then shook his head. "Or was, when I was there."

"She said it was intimate." She paused, studying his face before lowering her voice. "Have you gone bender?" she asked, and Ianto stared at her so long that she sighed. "You never tell me anything these days. Dad died, that was it, you were off. You couldn't wait. Like I did something wrong. I didn't, did I?"

Ianto shook his head. "It's not that," he started, but she kept going.

"First it was London, only when you finally came back to Cardiff we hardly ever saw you. Then you disappear with no word for almost a year, until all of a sudden we're thrown in a safe house because you're mixed up with the government!"

"It's my job, it's difficult, it's…" He shrugged, too tired to resist anymore. "He is handsome."

"No!" she exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth.

"Stop it," Ianto groaned, hiding his face.

"You're kidding me. Really, though? Really?" Ianto searched her face and found no judgment. He nodded and she squealed again.

"Christ almighty! But he's nice, though? Is he?"

"Yeah," Ianto murmured. "He is. He's a good man. Dangerous, but deep down he's the best man I've ever known."

"Is he? Oh my god. I mean, since when?"

Ianto settled back against his pillow. "It's weird. It's just different. It's not...men. It's… it's just him. It's only him." He paused and closed his eyes. "Or it was."

"You broke up with him," she said, nodding in understanding. "When you left Cardiff."

"I had no choice," Ianto said. "I couldn't stay. I…I lied, told them I'd left Torchwood to find a normal life. I changed my name, my appearance, everything. I only started working for UNIT because I had nothing else…no job, no money, no…"

"No partner," she offered when he stopped. "And what about now?" she asked. "After all you've gone through this past week, do you still think about him that way?"

He let her see the answer in his eyes, then wiped them before the tears could fall and tucked it all away, buried deep. "It's not the same," he told her. "I've seen things, done things…I don't know if I can go back to that life. I'm a different person now."

"Not when it comes down to it," she said. "You're still my little brother, and it's clear you're still stuck on him. What's the problem, then?"

"I shot him," Ianto whispered, letting his eyes slip closed. "I shot him in the head to stop him from killing us all."

His hand slipped from her grasp, a horrified look on her face.

"You what?" she breathed. "But I saw him, he came to the safe house…"

Ianto nodded. "I told you, he's different. He's all right, I didn't kill him…well, technically I did, but I killed him to save him…which, when you think about it, makes it really hard to have a relationship with someone when you can shoot them in the head and they just pop right back up—"

"Ianto Jones!" she exclaimed, stopping him from rambling. "I don't know what you're on about, but you listen to me. If you love him, you can't let this get in the way. Not this, and certainly not—"

"Stop," said Ianto. "Who said anything about love?"

Rhiannon's face softened. "Oh, sweetheart, it's obvious from the look in your eyes every time you say his name. And to be honest, he had the same look in his as well. I didn't know what to make of it, but now I think I understand."

"There's nothing to understand," Ianto sighed. "Jack is…who he is, and I'm who I am, and it can't possibly work. Not after everything….besides, I don't know what's going to happen when I get out of here. I'm sure I'll be called to London to answer for what I've done."

"London!" she said. "You're still in hospital! What's so important that it can't wait for your health?"

"The end of the world, no doubt," Ianto replied dryly.

"Jack told me you saved the world," she said, and he smiled somewhat bitterly. Perhaps he had, but it didn't feel like it.

He listened with half an ear as she went on about how he needed to stay in hospital, stay in bed, get better before running off again. He wished he could agree, but at the same time, he did not know what his future held, and it made him anxious. He realized that he had no idea what had happened to his flat after he'd been shot while contacting Jack, he doubted he still had a job with UNIT, and it was possible he could be arrested for treason against the British government. And more than anything, there was a strange tension with Jack that Ianto couldn't deal with, not then. Maybe not ever. Maybe going back to London was what he needed, no matter the consequences.

"I'll be fine," he told her. "And I won't disappear this time, I promise."

Rhiannon left not long after that, leaving Ianto to his rest. Gwen came by later and filled him in on several other things that had happened since he'd collapsed at Flat Holm. Jake Rogers was dead; he'd died in custody after being caught in the blast of the Hub, and his body had been turned over to UNIT. Gwen had spoken with his family that morning, and Ianto clasped her hand tight, knowing how hard it was for her to lose another teammate.

It reminded him yet again of his own loss, of Bryan. It seemed so long ago, the attack at the Starry Night, even though it had only been days. Ianto had no idea how Cornelius had handled the cleanup, and he felt wretched knowing that it was his fault both Bryan and Cornelius had been involved in the first place. Did Bryan's wife know of his death, or was she still waiting for word? Ianto decided he would see her when he returned to London, to tell her personally that her husband had died a hero. He would pay his respects even if he was arrested and thrown in prison. And he would do whatever he could to make it up to Cornelius, to ensure his continued safety and friendship.

Gwen told him that Mickey and Martha were recovering well. The anti-virus was being administered throughout the country and more and more of those struck down by the flu were recovering. After receiving another sample and administering it to anyone who'd had contact with Ianto, Dr. Tomlinson had gone back to Flat Holm with a supply in case any of the residents had become sick in his absence. And of course, they talked about the momentous government turnover, completely avoiding the elephant in the room that was Jack's absence.

"Jack said he'll be back tonight, sweetheart," she said as his eyes started to droop once more.

"It's all right," Ianto murmured. "He needs to do what he needs to do."

"He needs to be with you," Gwen whispered. She was still holding his hand as he slipped into yet another deep sleep. His body was recovering from a difficult week, and at times he could only surrender and let himself rest.

When he woke it was dark outside and Jack was sitting beside him, picking at a curry and staring at the television. It was obvious Jack was paying no attention to the story whatsoever; the sound was muted and his eyes were distant and blank.

"Smells good," Ianto said, struggling to sit up. Jack immediately moved to help him, setting down his food and straightening Ianto's pillows. For a moment, he looked like he was going to lean down and kiss Ianto, but instead he returned to his chair, pulling it closer, but not too close. It had been the same when Ianto had regained consciousness the night before. Jack had been so relieved, so concerned, so considerate. And yet there was a distance that Ianto had sensed immediately. Jack had been constantly touching him and kissing him since they'd reunited at Aston Down. Yet since awakening in the hospital, Jack had barely touched Ianto, occasionally moving to kiss him, but always stopping.

Ianto shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Or maybe he was disappointed. Then again, what had he expected it to be like after shooting Jack in the head less than 24 hours after sleeping with him? Twice? Awkward didn't begin to describe their relationship sometimes. Complicated and royally fucked up was more like it.

And Ianto couldn't blame him. He had done what he had to do, both to stop Jack and to save Jack, but he had a hard time looking Jack in the eye because of it; he wondered how Jack could stand to be in the same room with him.

Jack sat down again and nodded toward his food. "I could get you some, if you like."

"No, the food here is fantastic," Ianto replied, earning a small smile from Jack. "Okay, not really, but I'm fine. Not much of an appetite yet, and I can live on dry toast for a few more days."

"The doctors say you're recovering well," Jack offered. Once again there was a twitch, as if he wanted to reach out to Ianto but wouldn't let himself. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel much better," said Ianto. "Just tired. Which I suppose is normal."

"We had a hell of a week," Jack murmured. Ianto nodded in agreement.

"We certainly did. How did it go in London? Besides the chaos that's on the news."

Jack laughed humorlessly. "That's not the half of it." He leaned back and told Ianto about his time in London. Debriefings with UNIT, Whitehall, MI-5  _and_  MI-6. Questions about the past, questions about the future. But apparently everything was slowly sorting itself; the truth about the 456 was out and the virus was being contained. Jack sighed and took another bite of his bread.

"And then there's Torchwood," he said, sounding bitter. Ianto glanced at him in surprise.

"What about it?"

"Don't know," said Jack with a shrug. "UNIT sent some men out to secure the site, and another team arrived to begin excavation and retrieval. I'm meeting with them tomorrow to go over the plans, and then with the Queen to discuss our options."

"You mean, whether to rebuild or turn it all over to UNIT?" Ianto asked, and Jack nodded. He was silent, his gaze unfocused on the wall until Ianto prompted him again. "Jack, what's wrong?"

"I don't know what to do," Jack said so quietly Ianto almost couldn't hear him. "When I was at Flat Holm, before they took me into custody, I thought it made sense to rebuild, to start over and carry on. But now I'm not so sure."

"What changed your mind?" asked Ianto. There may have been a lingering discomfort between them, but they had always been able to talk openly about matters pertaining to Torchwood. Ianto wanted to help; he could see what a burden the decision was for Jack.

"London," Jack sighed. "There are those who support rebuilding, but even they want Torchwood to be a part of something bigger, with more oversight. And there are more who oppose it, saying it's lived its time and served its purpose."

"Who'd monitor the Rift?" asked Ianto. "Who  _is_  monitoring the Rift, right now?"

"UNIT's keeping half an eye on it," said Jack. "They're the only ones capable of it right now."

"Which you don't like," Ianto guessed. Jack had no major issues with UNIT other than their overly black and white approach to things. Sometimes life with Torchwood required a more nuanced and pragmatic point of view, as the past week had clearly demonstrated.

"They've helped us out with the larger cases, but simple tech retrievals, Weevils, lost tourists—things like that we can handle. It's  _easier_  to handle as a small, mobile team that doesn't have to cut through miles of red tape and sign fifty forms in triplicate." Which made sense, although Ianto remembered quite a few forms from his time in the Hub.

"Why not have Torchwood operate as an independent team—small and mobile—under UNIT auspices?" suggested Ianto. "It would make it easier to bring in the big guns when needed."

Jack was silent for a long moment. "I hate having someone looking over my shoulder and breathing down my neck," he said.

"I'm sure you could negotiate a great deal of autonomy," said Ianto. "You've had it for almost ten years, and you did just save the world, after all."

Jack glanced up at that. " _We_  saved the world," he said. "Together. Speaking of which, both UNIT and Whitehall want to meet with you as well. They'll be calling."

Ianto nodded. "I expected as much. It's fine. I'll go when I'm called."

"What will you do?" asked Jack.

"I don't know," Ianto answered honestly. "I could be charged with treason for some of the things I've done this week. I can only wait to see what they want."

Jack was silent once more, as if gathering his thoughts. Ianto watched him stare at his boots, wishing the strange tension between them was gone, but that meant wishing most of the last week had never happened. Yet it had, and they had to move past it somehow. Ianto took a deep breath, not sure what to say, but wanting to say something, anything.

"Ianto—"

"Jack—"

They grinned at one another, and Ianto gestured at Jack to continue. "You first."

Jack nodded. "I don't think you'll be charged with treason," he said, which was certainly not what Ianto had been expecting Jack to say. "Captain Dalton seemed to think you still had a job at UNIT and might even be up for a promotion."

Ianto snorted in spite of himself. "Right. I blatantly used UNIT resources for personal reasons, which got my handler killed, not to mention hundreds of other people sick when I stormed Thames House using those resources to kill an alien ambassador."

"I killed the alien ambassador," Jack murmured. "Because it was blackmailing us. Hardly ambassador behavior."

"I know that, Jack," Ianto said, trying not to get worked up and failing. "But they won't understand. And Bryan isn't…he can't…" He paused, surprised at the sudden flare of emotion as he realized yet again that Bryan couldn't help him anymore. For months they had worked as a team, and Bryan had got Ianto through his assignments, alive if often a bit worse for wear. But now Bryan was gone, and Ianto seriously doubted UNIT would be interested in him any longer. If the government didn't execute him, UNIT could throw him in a dark prison for any number of reasons.

"I'm sorry," Jack whispered, bowing his head. "I'm so sorry about Bryan. If it wasn't for me he wouldn't have—"

"Don't say it," Ianto snapped, earning a surprised look from Jack. "It's not your fault. It's mine. All of it. Jake, Bryan, Cornelius, all those people who didn't get the anti-virus in time—"

"Stop it!" Jack exclaimed, jumping up and starting to pace. "It's not your fault either, Ianto. You were trying to help—you were doing your job."

"If I'd been doing it right—" Ianto started, but Jack stopped him once more with a slash of his hands through the air.

"No!" he shouted, and Ianto bristled at Jack's anger. He sat up straighter and prepared to do battle, but before he could open his mouth to retort, Jack was pointing a finger in his face.

" _We_ did what we thought was right, what  _we_  had to do. If we made mistakes, we're not the only ones. Everyone else fucked up just as much as we did, if not more, but  _we_  got the job done."

Jack was breathing heavily when he stopped, and it became suddenly clear to Ianto that Jack's guilt was as great as his own. Perhaps that was what kept Jack from reaching out to him, from touching him, from kissing him. It was certainly what kept Ianto from the same. The crushing guilt of not only Bryan's death, but hundreds of others, was made a thousand times worse by Ianto's direct hand in Jack's conversion and killing. Jack had saved Ianto's life with the anti-virus, even after Ianto had shot him in the head. How did he move on from that? From the self-blame, the guilt, the regret? The pain and loss and—

Without warning Jack took three steps forward and crushed his lips to Ianto, a sound like a sob escaping his lips as his hands came up to Ianto's face, roughly caressing his jaw. "It's not your fault," he murmured over and over in between kisses, which Ianto couldn't help but return. He had missed this, missed Jack's touch. He was vaguely aware of his own whispered apologies and Jack's continued affirmations; when Ianto felt the salty sting of a tear brush his face he wasn't sure if it was his own or Jack's. He wanted to pull away…they were both too broken to be doing this, it would only make things worse…they needed to talk, to really clear the air, not kiss and shag it away…

He was saved by the jarring ring of Jack's mobile phone. Jack ignored it at first, until Ianto put a hand to his chest and pushed him back, his eyes slipping closed so he couldn't see the look on Jack's face, whatever it might be.

"You should take that," he said quietly.

"It's too late to be calling," Jack murmured.

"Which means it's probably important," Ianto replied, opening his eyes. "Take it."

Jack nodded and stepped back to answer. Ianto took the time to compose himself, mentally listing all the reasons why the kiss was wrong, even though it had been so good. Quickly enough Jack was back at his side, sliding his mobile into his pocket.

"I have to go," he said so quietly, and with such a heartbreaking crack in his voice, that Ianto almost wept for him. "The Rift has decided to start making itself known again."

Ianto nodded. "Good luck," he said. He wanted to ask more—what was happening, was Jack going alone, did he need Ianto? It was not really Ianto's business. He didn't work for Torchwood Three anymore, and he couldn't get out of bed to help even if he worked up the courage to ask and Jack actually took him up on it.

"Er, thanks," said Jack. He stepped away, then walked back, as if unsure about leaving so abruptly. His hand rose and fell, ending in his pocket with a shrug. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I know," said Ianto. "I am too, more than you know."

"Ianto, I—"

"Just go, Jack," Ianto replied, falling back against his pillows, weariness hitting him hard. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Jack repeated, and Ianto felt his chest constrict at Jack's response until Jack frowned and continued. "I was planning to come back later."

Ianto smiled. "All right. But I'll probably be asleep," he said. Jack returned the smile.

"I'll be quiet."

"Be careful as well," Ianto added.

Jack moved toward the door. "You know me." The wink was forced but appreciated. Ianto closed his eyes. He had no idea if Jack would actually return, and whether they would continue from where they'd left off or if the awkward feeling between them would be there forever. The uncertainty made him want to get better, get up and get out and get on with his life, whatever it might be. He didn't want to stay around if he and Jack could barely talk to one another.

If Jack returned that night, Ianto did not hear him, nor did not see him the next morning. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. The guilt, however, continued, particularly when Jack did not return. Ianto knew logically that Jack must still be dealing with whatever the Rift had seen fit to gift, but at the same time he couldn't help thinking that maybe Jack wanted to stay away. Why would he want to come back when Ianto had slept with him, shot him, and kissed him?

Ianto's sister visited again, which was a distraction he appreciated, especially when she didn't bring up anything about Jack. Gwen came by in the late afternoon and told him Jack was tied up with the Rift and overseeing UNIT at the ruins of the Hub, and even chasing after a few Weevils. She tried to get him to open up about Jack, wanting to understand just as she always did, but Ianto wasn't ready to discuss it. He hadn't worked it out for himself, what would he say to her? So he tucked it away in a corner of his mind and tried not to think about it as he itched to get out of bed, out of hospital, and out of Cardiff.

The call he'd been expecting came that day: Whitehall requesting his presence as soon as he was able. He decided he'd go first thing in the morning. He needed to do something besides think about what a mess his life had become in less than a fortnight. Because the reality was that if he'd had any hope of reconciling with Jack, it had ended that day at Flat Holm. And if Ianto weren't still trying to put the horrific images from his head, or if he weren't still battling the demons of guilt and shame, he would have mourned the chance to be with Jack again. As it was, he knew it was over, and that was the only thing he was sure of.

When Jack came by that night, he pretended to be asleep.

The next morning he started for London, fully prepared to accept whatever fate was dealt him, be it prison or continued servitude to UNIT or some other unknown fate. He would pick up the pieces of the life he'd led for a brief time and start over, alone.

With that thought, Ianto let himself fall into an uneasy sleep, lulled by the rhythmic groove of the train as it sped toward London. He needed his strength for whatever the new government had in mind for him. He only wished that Jack was there by his side, as he had been last time he'd walked into Thames House.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Taamar for her wonderful beta-reading! I'm not sure what else to say except don't hate me. I wrote the next chapter months and months before most of the earlier chapters, and everything has been leading up to it from pretty much the beginning. It's one of the Big Points I wanted to make with this story, a major inspiration for the entire tale. There's still a good deal left, however, so do not despair! Thank you for reading and enjoy!
> 
>  


	23. Day Ten - Ianto

Day Ten - Ianto

Ianto left Thames House in a daze, still stunned at the turn his life had taken within. He stepped into the bright sunlight and squinted, glancing around to find Jack standing on the pavement nearby, leaning casually against the wall as if waiting for him. Of course he was. Never mind that Ianto had been shot, chased, attacked, and hospitalized over the course of the past week and wanted nothing more than to sleep after a three-hour train ride and meeting with the prime minister. Jack had followed him and probably wanted to know what had happened inside. A part of Ianto wanted to shake his head, walk away, and curl up in a hotel somewhere, alone. Yet he knew he couldn't; there was too much to do, including trying to piece back together a life that had once again been turned on its side and completely upended within the last hour.

Another part of him wanted to see Jack. There was still so much they hadn't talked about, things Ianto wanted to know, things he wanted to say, despite not knowing how to say them or whether it would make a difference. The uncomfortable distance that had sprung up between them in the hospital held him back, until Jack pushed himself off the wall, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised in an unspoken invitation. Ianto nodded once, relieved to answer without words, and they started walking down the street together in a silence that was familiar yet awkward.

"Coffee?" asked Jack, glancing sideways. Ianto gave him a half smile.

"Not if I have to make it," he replied.

"There's a decent café not far from here. Can we go there? Talk?" Jack sounded unsure and nervous, just as he had over a year ago when he'd returned from traveling with the Doctor and asked Ianto out on a date. Ianto took a deep breath and nodded. He noticed Jack's hand move from his pocket, as if he wanted to reach out for Ianto, but then it went back. Just as it had at the hospital. In spite of their heat-of-the-moment experience in the safehouse and an almost desperate kiss in the hospital, the events at Flat Holm had split them, possibly irreparably.

"How are you feeling?" Jack asked as they walked. Ianto tried not to let the first bitter response slip from his lips, that he was still recovering from being shot, from running and fighting and almost dying from an alien virus, knowing it would only upset Jack, and Ianto did not see any reason to do so at the moment. He wasn't angry at Jack, after all. It was everything else that had gone wrong around them.

"Tired, but getting there. The doctors said I'd be feeling fatigued for quite a while." He shrugged. "But duty called, so here I am."

Which was true. Ianto had been released from hospital that morning, and that was only because he'd insisted on it after the Home Office had called and demanded a meeting. He was scheduled for a thorough debriefing at UNIT the next day, and then he would attend Bryan Wells' funeral. After which he planned on collapsing for a week to recover and grieve. Where he'd do that collapsing, he wasn't sure. His flat had been released to UNIT, but it had also been shot up and torn apart, and he did not feel like returning there. He could go back to Cardiff, spend time with his sister and try to repair their relationship, but he'd likely end up at a hotel for a while.

Jack nodded. "I spoke with the new PM again on the phone. Today the Queen demanded my presence."

Ianto looked at him in surprise. He had assumed Jack was there to see him, though he had no reason to assume such a thing. It made sense, though, that Jack was in London for business as well. Jack was the leader of Torchwood, and Torchwood had been blown up. Of course the Queen would want to speak with him and make plans for the future.

"So how did it go with Whitehall?"

"I'm still a free man, which is surprising, all things considered," Ianto replied dryly.

"What could they do?" Jack asked. "We saved their arse. Twice in one week, when you think about it."

Ianto laughed through his nose. "Even after they tried to kill us several times."

"We do it for the planet, not for them," said Jack firmly. "And we did good."

Ianto sighed again. "In some ways. But someday, Jack…someday we won't. Someday it will be much worse, and even more people will die."

"Not today," said Jack. They fell silent as walked side-by-side, close but not touching. Ianto caught Jack watching him and raised an eyebrow. Jack gave him that innocent look he did so well, and Ianto answered with an eye roll, earning a warm grin from Jack that made his heart flip. It was almost as if everything had gone back to normal between them in the space of a thirty second facial exchange. It made telling Jack what had happened in Whitehall that much harder.

Jack led them toward the river. It wasn't long before he reached out for Ianto's hand, and Ianto let him take it. Jack was a tactile person, after all, and it didn't always mean anything more than support and reassurance. Ianto was glad for the contact, given how reluctant Jack had been to touch him for days, and he held tight to Jack's hand, suspecting deep down it might be the last time.

"I know I've said it so many times already, but I really missed you," said Jack. "I don't know if I would have made it through the last ten days without you."

Ianto squeezed Jack's hand, glancing away so that he couldn't see the emotion shining from the other man's eyes.

"You would have. You always do."

Jack didn't answer with his usual flippant quip, which meant the past week had cost him more than he was willing to admit and had left him reeling, like so many others. Ianto took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about everything that's happened," he started. Jack glanced at him curiously.

"Why? None of it's your fault," he said, and Ianto shook his head in disagreement.

"I'm sorry for what you had to go through," he said. "And for my part in it."

"Definitely not something I want to experience again," Jack murmured, not meeting his eyes as he gazed across the river. They were silent for another moment, the distance between them growing once more, with so many things to say that Ianto didn't know where to begin. How did one apologizing for killing one's immortal lover?

"Thank you," said Jack, breaking the silence. "I can't say it enough. Thank you for coming back."

This time Ianto looked at Jack in surprise. "You didn't have to," Jack continued. "You could have remained in London, stayed undercover at Thames House and worked it from that angle."

"No, I couldn't," said Ianto. "They tried to kill me too, remember?" he said when Jack opened his mouth to protest. "I became a part of that blank page order."

"Only when you broke cover and called me," Jack pointed out.

"Maybe, but I couldn't let anyone else be hurt by that bomb, not once I knew about it. That would make me no better than them."

Jack glanced sideways at him. "You must have known they would come after you," he said. "You had a life in London, a life you gave up the minute you called."

"And I'd do it again," Ianto replied, his tone more curt than he had intended. "Of course I'd do it again. For you, for Gwen, for Martha. How could I not?"

"You're a good man," Jack murmured.

"I'm a coward," Ianto replied, dropping Jack's hand and turning away, though not before catching the look of disbelief on Jack's face.

"How do you figure that?" asked Jack. "In the last week you escaped an attempt on your life, strode into a secure military facility and shot your way out, stood down a hostile alien, snuck into the Black Archive, and saved the world. How does that make you a coward?"

He'd left out the part where Ianto had lied, run away, and left him in the first place. Ianto simply offered him a pointed look, hoping to communicate his thoughts without words. Jack sighed and shook his head. He stopped and turned toward Ianto. "Look, I'm not angry. I don't judge you. You left for reasons you felt were important at the time. That doesn't make you a coward, Ianto. Look at all the good you did! You saved me, and for that alone I can never thank you enough. I—"

"Don't say it," Ianto snapped, turning and continuing along the river. He walked quickly, and felt rather than saw the exasperated look from Jack as he followed. "Just don't say it."

Striding down the street, Ianto tried to ignore his racing heart as they danced around the deeper issues. He knew it would come up sooner or later, but he was still emotionally unprepared to deal with it. He always had been. It was why he had left, after all, and he was certain he would muck it up one way or another when he could no longer deflect or deny it.

"Don't say what?" asked Jack from beside him. "That I understand? That I forgive you? That I'm sorry you came back only to go through hell all over again? That I—"

"Stop it!" said Ianto, slashing his hand through the air. "You don't mean it, any of it." He knew he was being unfair, because he was aware of Jack's history, but he couldn't help it. His defensive mechanisms were up in full force.

He noticed Jack's nostrils flare in that way he had when he was angry but trying to control it. His voice was tight when he replied. "You don't know that," he said. "You don't know what I think or how I feel, so don't presume to answer for me."

"How could I know?" Ianto demanded, his bitterness and disappointment spilling out before he could stop it. "You've barely looked at me for days. We've hardly talked." He took a deep breath but his voice still stuck in his throat. "We've barely touched. I can only draw one conclusion, Jack. You can't stand to be around me after what I did at Flat Holm."

Jack's jaw was locked, until he blew out a long breath with a bitter laugh. "I'm sorry, I really am. I know we haven't talked much, and no, we haven't touched. But you haven't reached out either. I pulled you into this. I got you sick. I put you through hell on Flat Holm. The way I see it, you must hate me for what's happened."

"I could never hate you, you know that," said Ianto. "Not even…well, not even in my darkest hour. It wasn't your fault, Jack. None of this was."

"And it wasn't yours either," said Jack. "I don't blame you for any of it."

Ianto wasn't sure he believed Jack, but he nodded anyway. "I don't blame you either."

"So we don't hate one another," murmured Jack. "That's a start."

"It's a pretty piss-poor start." Ianto shrugged.

"It's better than some," said Jack with a dry smile. "Besides, it's Torchwood."

"Or just us." Ianto smiled back, some of the tension left behind as they headed down to the riverside, coffee forgotten. They walked in silence until they came to a bench. Jack motioned him to sit, and Ianto watched as Jack paced before him.

"I'm sorry about how strange it's been between us. You're right, I've been avoiding a lot of things over the last few days. I was really hoping you…well, that you hadn't noticed."

"After spending five very intense days with you, Jack, it was hard not to. To be honest, I'm not sure how I would have reacted if you had acted like nothing happened. I shot you." It was out in the open now; they had to talk about it.

"You saved me." Jack let his eyes slip closed. "Logically, I know that. But so many others have betrayed me, it kept getting mixed up in my mind. It's taken me a few days to accept it emotionally, I think. And I have." He opened his eyes, and Ianto saw the truth of his words there. "Now I just have to convince you."

"I'm not sure you can," Ianto murmured. "I'll never forget what happened that day."

"You've seen me die before," Jack pointed out.

"Not by my hand," Ianto snapped. "And not as a…as a Cyberman."

"Oh." Jack let his head fall. "It was bad."

"It was really bad," Ianto whispered. Jack sat next to him and took his hand.

"But we can work through this. I'm sorry for what I did, what I said, but I wasn't…it wasn't me. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know that," said Ianto. "Remember, I've been through it before. Like you said, logically I know that you would never say or do those things. Emotionally, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it and not be consumed by guilt."

"Ianto!" Jack exclaimed. "You have nothing to feel guilty for. You saved me. You saved the world."

"I killed you," Ianto whispered. "I left you, and then I came back and shot you in the head. I don't know how you can even look at me now."

"I can look at you because I understand," Jack started. "I'm old, Ianto. I've done so many things, things I'm not proud of. Believe me when I tell you that I know what it's like to leave someone."

"You're immortal, Jack," Ianto said wearily. "You left for completely different reasons."

Jack grinned, looking slightly feral. "I don't think so."

"So now you're presuming to answer for me?" demanded Ianto.

"I can try," said Jack. "I left to spare them the pain, yes. I know that's what you probably tell yourself every day, because that's what you wrote in your letter." He closed his eyes and sighed, finally sitting down next to Ianto with his elbows to his knees, heading falling forward as he stared at the ground.

"I read that letter so many times I wore it out," he murmured. "I tried so hard to figure out why you really left, to understand, and I only get it now. Because I've done the same thing. I'm trying hard not to do it right now. And I can see you getting ready to do it again."

"Jack—" Ianto warned, wondering where this was going and if he dared to follow. Jack shook his head.

"You left as much to save me the pain of losing you as you did to spare yourself the pain of facing your feelings."

Ianto gaped at him. That Jack had pinpointed it so simply after so long was more than startling; it was unexpected and threw Ianto into yet another emotional tailspin of doubt and uncertainty.

"I won't presume to even guess what those might be, but I know what things were like for me before you left. It was good." Jack reached out for his hand, and once again Ianto let him, too glad for the comfort to resist. "We were close. We were heading somewhere, I think. And then Owen died."

"And then Owen died," Ianto echoed, unable to speak for himself.

"For the first time." Jack shook his head, his eyes immeasurably sad. "And I think that scared the hell out of you. I know it scared me, losing one of my team, thinking that you could be next. But I never dreamed you would leave Torchwood—leave me—because of it." Jack took a deep breath. "If I had, I wouldn't have done it."

"Don't say that," Ianto whispered. "You don't mean it."

"In hindsight, yes I do. I didn't know it would bring Owen back like that. He was miserable. And then you left, telling us you wanted to spare us the pain of losing a team member again. Do you think a day hasn't passed since then where I think that we would have all been better off without that damn glove?"

Ianto couldn't answer. He'd never suspected that Jack would have such deep regrets, either about Owen or how Owen's resurrection had affected the team.

"Am I close?" asked Jack softly. "Or should I continue?" Ianto motioned helplessly with his other hand, unable to put words to his own complex thoughts and feelings. Hearing Jack speak so openly about his own regrets only reinforced how unworthy Ianto knew himself to be.

"I'm sorry for my part in what happened before you left," Jack said, and Ianto stared at him wide-eyed, once again shocked at Jack's words. "I know that I played one, a large one. I think it helped drive you off, and I'm not sure I can forgive myself for what I did to both you and Owen. I hope that someday you might, though. I don't want you to leave again."

Ianto dropped Jack's hand and ran it through his hair. He stood up and took Jack's place in pacing, confusion and agitation getting the better of him.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he started. "And there is nothing to forgive. You didn't drive me off, Jack. I left of my own volition."

Jack nodded, steadily holding his eyes. "Why?" he asked, direct and to the point. He'd been asking the same question ever since he had revived at Aston Down, and Ianto knew he no longer had any choice but to answer. After all they had been through, and after all Jack had said, he owed Jack honesty and truth. It was a truth Ianto had tried to deny, had pushed back to the corners of his mind and justified with a dozen other reasons for leaving, but in the end, it came down to one thing.

"You were right," he said, hanging his head as the confession fell from his lips. "I told myself over and over, for months, that I left so you wouldn't have to watch me die one day soon. That it would be better to leave while I was still alive, before it became more serious. But the truth is that I left as much for you as for myself. To spare myself the pain of losing you."

"But I can't die," Jack pointed out, almost conversationally.

"I know," said Ianto.

"So you didn't trust me to stick around, is that it?" asked Jack. He sounded hurt, as if the idea hadn't occurred to him. Which was ridiculous, because they had talked about that very thing when Jack had returned from his year-long trip with the Doctor. Ianto had believed Jack, when Jack had promised that he would never leave without saying goodbye, and that he would always return if he did have to go. At least, Ianto had believed him at first, knowing something about Jack's difficult time away. Yet his lack of self-confidence had slowly got the best of him, and in spite of growing closer, so many other things had happened to eat away at his sense of security that he'd started to question whether he was enough for Jack to stay.

"It's not about trust, Jack," said Ianto. He felt weary and unprepared for this conversation, but it was time to have it. There was no way to walk away from it this time. He couldn't pretend to Retcon himself and disappear into another identity.

"It's about the reality of…of us," he said, even though there really wasn't an 'us' at that moment. "You're immortal, and I'm not. You'll live forever, and I'll be lucky to turn thirty, let alone see my hair turn grey while you look the same, year after year."

To his surprise, Jack glanced down at his hands and smiled fondly. "You've said that before," he pointed out. Ianto gave him a confused look.

"What?" he asked.

"When you came to see me in the hospital," Jack said, and now he was grinning as he met Ianto's eyes. "When I was unconscious. And I know I wasn't supposed to say anything…but you're not just a blip in time, Ianto Jones."

Ianto turned away and let his eyes slip closed. Jack remembered everything he had said during the coma. He had poured his heart out, trying to bring Jack back and purge his own feelings, and Jack had not only heard him, he remembered. Ianto was mortified, and felt his hands start to shake.

"You weren't supposed to remember that," he whispered.

"I will always remember you, Ianto Jones. Because I could never forget all that you've done for me, all that you mean to me."

"No," said Ianto, shaking his head. "I did nothing. I lied to you. I left you. I shot you!"

He felt rather than saw Jack come to stand behind him, imagined the other man just barely refraining himself from reaching out to wrap his arms around Ianto. He wasn't sure if he wanted Jack to touch him, to hold him and embrace him, or if wanted to run as far away as he possibly could at that moment. Jack was remarkably restrained.

"You saved me," he said quietly. Ianto wondered if Jack was referring to more than recent events.

"Stop saying that!" Ianto snapped. "I killed you, Jack. People don't do that to people they...I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

"Can't, or won't?" Jack asked, before gently turning Ianto around and placing his hand along Ianto's face. "Because I want to do this, Ianto. I don't want to lose you again. I want to work this out."

"You shouldn't," Ianto choked out even as he leaned into Jack's touch. "Not after everything I've done."

Jack laughed bitterly. "I'm not one to judge." He brought his other hand up to Ianto's face. "You are amazing. You saved the world. You are far too good for me, Ianto Jones, but I hope you'll have me anyway."

"I'm mortal," said Ianto. "I have nothing to offer." Which was true. He was a coward and a murderer and nothing compared to the bright spark that was Jack. What could Jack possibly see in him, especially now?

"All I want is you," said Jack. "Is that too much to ask?"

They remained standing like that, blue eyes locked together. Ianto could not remember seeing such an open, honest, and anguished look in Jack's eyes before. Warmth, yes. Fondness, yes. Lust and passion and even anger, yes. But this…this was too much. It was more than desire, it was need. It was hope, and it was…

"It's too much to give," Ianto whispered.

Jack's hands fell away. "You don't mean that," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "After everything that's happened this past week, you can't possibly mean that."

"I don't know!" said Ianto. Ianto knew he was being irrational. His emotions were all over the place, but he didn't know what else to do or say anymore. "But I can't do this now, Jack, I just can't."

"Do what?" Jack demanded, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Let yourself be happy, be loved? Because I love you, Ianto. You said it in your letter ten months ago. If you had said it to me then, to my face instead of in a Dear John, I'd have said it right back. **"**

"Which was why I left!" Ianto cried, his voice breaking. "Do you see, now? You shouldn't love me. I'm going to die, Jack. One day soon, I'm going to die."

"Why, do you want to die?" asked Jack, and there was an edge to his voice that bordered on frightened. "Is that why you left?"

"Of course not," Ianto snapped. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Then talk to me!" Jack exclaimed, throwing his hands up. It was midmorning, but the area was not as crowded as it might normally be, given everything that had happened over the past week. A few people walked along the river, however, and Ianto wished they had privacy for what was rapidly becoming more of an argument than a discussion.

"Ianto, you don't work for Torchwood anymore." Jack shook his head, obviously confused. "You're free of that life, just like you wanted."

"I didn't want to be free of Torchwood," Ianto said wearily. "I told you in my letter, I'm not afraid to die, not if it means protecting the planet."

"You just wanted to be free of me," said Jack, his voice cooling down quickly.

"No," said Ianto forcefully, though he knew he was skirting around the issue once more. "I wanted you to be free, Jack. I didn't want you to worry about me, to keep me back at the Hub like you did after the warehouse. I didn't want you to compromise yourself in the field if I were in danger. I didn't want to be treated like glass, or become a liability."

Jack stared at him, then shook his head, rejecting Ianto's argument. "We could have worked that out. We talked about it before."

"I know," Ianto sighed. It was true and it had been a pathetic attempt at deflection. "I'm sorry."

"You said you loved me," Jack said. "In the letter."

"I did," said Ianto, and Jack's face fell. "I do…I…Jack." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but no more words came out. He was spent.

"Come back to Cardiff with me," said Jack, his voice breaking. "Please. It doesn't have to be with Torchwood! We can do anything now, be anything now. Together."

"I can't," Ianto replied wearily.

"You mean you won't," Jack said, shaking his head. "Why? Make me understand!"

"My place is here in London now," Ianto started, only to be interrupted.

"What's here for you?" he demanded. "What's here that's not in Cardiff?"

"My job," Ianto said softly. It was yet another excuse, and he clung to it as his final defense.

Jack stared at him. "You're staying with UNIT?" he asked, sounding both surprised and confused. "But...well...couldn't you transfer or something if you want to stay with them?"

Ianto sighed and tried to prepare himself for the inevitable explosion. "I'm not working for UNIT anymore," he said.

"Then what are you going to do in London?" asked Jack, and now he sounded leery, almost scared.

"I've been offered a job with the Home Office," Ianto replied, unable to meet Jack's eyes.

"The Home...wait, not Frobisher's job?"

"Oh god, no. A new cabinet position...Permanent Undersecretary of Extraterrestrial Affairs or some rubbish title like that."

Jack stared at him as if Ianto had grown a second head. Really, Ianto had been just as shocked when his meeting at Thames House had resulted in not only a reprieve from his many crimes over the course of the 456 debacle, but a job offer—and an impressive one at that. He'd been speechless for over a minute; Jack found his voice sooner.

"And you took it," he stated flatly. The disappointment was clear, and Ianto had to suppress the irrational flash of anger, that Jack wasn't happy for him. It was sort of a big deal, after all.

"I did." Ianto nodded and tried not to sound regretful, even though a part of him was. He would miss UNIT just as he had missed Torchwood, and there was the part of him that desperately wanted to take Jack's offer, to go back to Cardiff and do anything they wanted. Yet the same thing held him back that had driven him from Cardiff ten months earlier. "It's an incredible opportunity, Jack. I'll be the central source liaising with all the various groups out there, public and private. I could make a big difference if something like this happens again."

"You did make a difference," Jack said quietly, turning and staring across the river. "But you're right, it's a great opportunity. It'll finally get you out of the field and into a more normal life. A house, family, kids."

"It's not about that," Ianto started, but Jack stopped him.

"Is it about me?" he asked point blank. "Just tell me you're not…not hiding behind the politicians and policy in Thames House."

Ianto sighed. He should have known that Jack would react that way, with disappointment and anger. What hurt was that Jack wasn't completely wrong. Ianto wasn't running this time, not exactly…but he wasn't staying either. He believed in the position, though he had his doubts about being the right person for the job; yet being offered the opportunity to stay in London, and to stay involved with what he knew while protecting the planet, was not one Ianto could resist given his history. Ianto wanted to get angry and snap back, but found that he didn't have it in him anymore.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, unsure what he was really apologizing for.

Jack was silent for a long time, and the distance between them grew exponentially. Once more Ianto hated the horrible tension that had sprung up between them.

"What about us?" Jack asked so softly **,** so plaintively that Ianto almost choked on a sob. He felt his heart breaking, that he was causing Jack such pain. It only reinforced how unworthy he was, that such a man would feel anything for him when Ianto could only hurt him, in life or in death.

"I don't know," he replied.

After another long silence, Jack turned toward him, and Ianto felt Jack's piercing gaze, though there was less of the anger or despair of moments earlier. "Why are you really doing this?" he asked, his tone casual. "Why are you running away again?"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," Jack continued. "You're running away even though we have another chance to do this, to do it right without Torchwood getting in the way, without any of the other complications that always held us back. So why?"

"Jack, stop it," Ianto snapped. "I took a new job because in case you haven't noticed, my last few haven't turned out so well!"

"You're not a quitter," Jack shrugged. "You came to Torchwood Three after Canary Ward. You went to UNIT after Torchwood. You've been through hell more times than most people on this planet. You don't quit when things don't work out." When Ianto didn't say anything, Jack continued. "I think you're scared. You left because you were scared, and you can hardly get the words out past your fear. So tell me, Ianto Jones, what are you really afraid of?"

Jack took a step into his personal space, his patented way of intimidating others. Ianto stood strong, though he had to look away. Jack turned his face back.

"You know," he said softly, caressing Ianto's cheek.

"Doesn't matter," Ianto said. "It doesn't change anything."

Jack's eyes flashed. "It can. Tell me.  _Please_. What are you so afraid of? I don't want to hurt you, you must know what."

"I know." And he did, really. It was inevitable that it would happen, though.

"But you don't believe it," Jack said sadly. "You don't believe in me."

Ianto could only answer with silence.

"You saved me, you stood by my side, you accepted my past and helped me atone for what I'd done. But you don't believe in me."

"It's not that," Ianto whispered, shaking his head as his eyes filled with tears. "I would follow you to the end of the universe and beyond, Jack. I would do  _anything_  for you. I  _have_  done everything for you. And that's what scares me, more than anything."

Jack looked so confused that Ianto almost laughed, only he was fairly certain it would turn into a sob if he did.

"I left because I was scared that my feelings for you were growing too strong. I said I didn't want to lose you." He took a deep breath to finish. "But I don't want to lose myself even more."

It was the final, damning truth of his life: he was ruled by fear, and the self-preservation born of it. Ianto knew himself, knew that falling for Jack would consume him so completely that he would break apart when it ended. And Ianto also knew that it was a matter of  _when_ , and not _if_. It wasn't a question of faith and trust. Ianto believed what Jack said, but he also believed with all his heart that Jack Harkness was meant for more, meant to be traveling through time and across the stars. How could he, a sad lonely Welshman, possibly claim Jack's heart enough for Jack to stay?

"So you left first."

Ianto could only nod in shame. He felt Jack's eyes burning into him, and imagined them full of anger, of hurt, of pain. When he finally chanced a look up, Jack was staring across the river, his jaw tense, his eyes bright.

"I'm sorry," Ianto whispered yet again. Jack wiped at his eyes.

"I know," he said. "So am I, because I finally understand. After a century of trying so hard not to fall in love, I've apparently fallen for someone even more stubborn and self-sacrificing than I am." Jack took a deep breath and turned back to Ianto. "So where does that leave us?"

"I don't know," said Ianto for what felt like the one-hundredth time, simply because he didn't know what else to say. His heart was racing because he couldn't stand it if Jack walked away hating him. It was the one thing he could not bear, yet how could he expect anything else?

Jack took his hand, stroked his fingers, seemed to be trying to find his voice. He cleared his throat before he started, his voice rough with emotion. "I am offering everything I possibly can. A normal life, free of Torchwood, here in London, together with a flat and a family, dinners and dates and days off to do absolutely nothing or everything we can together. Holidays in Spain, a dog, a subscription to the opera. Anything you want, Ianto. I'm ready."

Ianto's throat was so thick he couldn't speak. One part of his mind was screaming, "Yes! Yes!" with joy, while the other part of his mind was whispering all the things that could go wrong. Jack would never be happy settling down, he would grow tired of Ianto aging while he did not, he could leave with the Doctor at any time. Ianto tried to listen to one and not the other, tried to put into words what he wanted and yet feared, but still his voice refused to work. Jack nodded sadly.

"You're not ready," he said softly. His eyes crinkled and a tear slipped out, and Ianto hated himself, that he was the one doing this to Jack. Why? Because he was afraid. He'd meant what he'd said to Jack. He would do anything for the man, and having gone through that once with Lisa, Ianto knew he could not let himself go through that again. He'd put the entire world in danger of another cyber invasion due to his love and devotion once already; he could not let it happen again. It had come so close to destroying him that Ianto knew if he let himself be with Jack, when Jack left—whether because of the Doctor or Ianto's age—it would destroy him. And there would be no one to help him this time, the way Jack had picked up the pieces of him after Lisa's death.

Ianto stared at Jack, wondering whether the other man would be angry, hurt, or even laugh it off. He was wrong on all accounts. Jack took a deep breath, letting his eyes slip closed as he released all his tension. When he opened them again, he smiled at Ianto, and took his face in his hands.

"I love you," he said, very simply.

"Don't," Ianto said, his voice cracking as his own tears began to fall.

"Too late," Jack whispered hoarsely. "I will always love you. In a thousand years time, I will still love you. If you decide to come back to Cardiff, you damn well better look me up."

Ianto nodded, completely numb.

"And if you change your mind," Jack started, then cleared his throat as his emotions caught up with him again. "I'll miss you," he whispered before he caught Ianto in a passionate kiss that Ianto couldn't help but return. He loved Jack, he did, and this might be the last time he experienced such a kiss, because for some reason he couldn't find the strength to say yes and follow his heart instead of his head. Ianto had often prided himself on being a fairly courageous person given some of the things he'd faced in his life, but at that moment, when it came to Jack, he was nothing but a coward.

Which confirmed yet another fear, one he tried not to think about but shaped everything: he was truly little more than a blip in time, and Jack deserved far, far better.

As if deliberately leaving him gasping for more, Jack abruptly pulled away, trailing his hand along Ianto's jaw before stepping back. He nodded and began to walk away, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat. Ianto called after him.

"Jack!"

"Yeah?" Jack asked, turning around expectedly. Ianto swallowed and for once tried to find his courage.

"I love you too," he said, but he could not offer anything else. Jack smiled crookedly and tipped his head.

"I know," he said quietly.

"I missed you before," Ianto said, willing Jack to understand what he could not say out loud. "And I'll miss you again."

"You know where to find me," Jack replied, casual flippancy sounding forced. "Don't be a stranger."

Ianto offered a crooked smile and nodded. Jack tipped his fingers to him and walked away, his back straight, head held high. Ianto turned back to the bench where they had been sitting and collapsed, letting his head fall back and his eyes slip closed. He saw Jack in his mind's eye and screwed his eyes shut against the tears threatening to fall. He could not offer what Jack was asking. It killed him inside, but he knew deep down he was not ready, and that he might never be ready. There was too much inevitable pain and heartbreak down that path; Ianto needed to find a new road to travel.

It would be a lonely road. He'd be restarting another life all on his own. While he'd done it before, this time it would be even more difficult because of the impossible choice he'd made to do it alone when he could have so much more. In the morning he would start going about getting his flat and his belongings and setting up a new life, a different life

It didn't feel right, and he suspected he wouldn't happy, but it was what he had to do. For Queen and country. Keep calm and start over. Life continued, and Ianto Jones adapted.

Alone once more.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is. Some of you will hate me for this, but this is where it was always going. This is why Ianto left and why he doesn't come back. This is, in part, why I wrote this story. Ianto Jones is my favorite character and I love him more than any other…but he is fallible. It's not always Jack's fault. I have little doubt that fear played a big role in his relationship with Jack. That said…this story is not over. There is more, and I will only say that it doesn't get any harder to read than this. In fact, I think the next chapter will surprise you! Thank you for reading!


	24. Six Months Later

Six months later…

Ianto leaned idly against the granite counter in his kitchen, a glass of single malt scotch in one hand and some nuts in the other. He gazed around the room, taking in the sleek lines, grey colors, and ultra-modern appliances, and decided he hated it. It was stark, it was cold, and most of all, it was lonely. He'd been there three months and it still didn't feel like he belonged there, really  _lived_  there. Shaking his head of maudlin thoughts, he moved from the unwelcoming kitchen into the living room.

It was slightly better, the style more to his taste. The sofa was comfortable rather than fashionable, the recliner battered but perfect for falling asleep in, the vintage coffee table he'd picked up second hand when he'd first moved to London scattered with magazines and reports. The fireplace displayed a few mementos and photos, and the entertainment unit he'd splurged on was filled to overflowing with books, movies, and music. Throw pillows, a blanket, and the cat's bed in the corner at least made it look lived in.

Settling himself onto the sofa, Ianto kicked off his shoes, put his feet up, and grabbed a remote control. He started some music, whatever had been in the disc changer, and rolled his eyes when it started playing the smooth sounds of a piano trio retooling jazz standards from the thirties and forties. Of course that's what it would play, when he'd prefer something loud and angry, or something despondent and depressing. No, his cd player decided to torture him further with the sounds of Cole Porter, George Gershwin, and Glenn Miller.

As if his mind weren't already back in Cardiff, thinking about Torchwood and Jack. He'd left work late after UNIT had finally confirmed what they'd suspected for days: the Cardiff Rift was gone. There had been a massive explosion at a pub, which had first alerted UNIT to the change. After three days, it had been confirmed by Torchwood Three when Martha had finally called to report that they'd deliberately closed the Rift, though for what reason, they were not sharing, other than to say it was necessary.

Ianto knew he should call them himself, should talk to Jack directly and find out what had happened. He was in charge of knowing such things, after all. Taking the job with the Home Office as Secretary for Extra Planetary Affairs six months earlier meant he needed to be aware of any and all extraterrestrial activity as well as temporal issues in the UK, and the Rift included both. He was the government's official liaison with UNIT and Torchwood, the unofficial liaison to the alien divisions of MI-5 and MI-6, and the man tasked with keeping a watch over formerly active groups such as the Forge, C19, and the ill-named Future Operations Committee.

When Ianto had taken the position, he had assumed it was a reaction to the incident with the 456 and that it would be minimized and phased out within a year. He had only hoped to make a difference and set some solid policy and practices in place before he was out of a job again. Instead, he and Lois Habiba (because of course he had insisted on an assistant, and that the assistant be her after he'd heard about all she'd done during the crisis) worked overtime more days than not, trying to keep various organizations from destroying one another while also keeping their information organized and collated in such a way that there were no secrets, not anymore. At least not from his office.

In some ways, Ianto really did know everything now…and he found he didn't much like it. He'd thought that he'd be able to make a difference, protect the planet in a different way: from the overbearing, quarreling bureaucrats who had almost sold out humanity to the drug-addicted 456. He was organized and efficient and could interact well with other groups, maintaining positive relationships with organizations often antagonistic toward central authority, and even occasionally facilitating them working together. And while he did his job exceptionally well and probably did make a difference, Ianto found he was ultimately…unsatisfied. Or perhaps just unhappy.

He'd left Torchwood and ended up at UNIT; he'd left UNIT to go back to Torchwood. Now he was, in some ways, watching over both, and he hated it. He was only twenty-six, the youngest official in the Home Office by far. The other government officials were all older than he, politicians with years more experience who looked down on him most of the time; half of them didn't know what he did, and the other half rolled their eyes at him. The office staff were his age but so innocent, so carefree, that between his life experience and his formal position, he was equally uncomfortable with them. He felt alone in a building full of more people than the Hub had ever seen, and not for the first time, he was questioning his choice to stay in London after everything that had happened in September.

Letting his head fall back against the cushions, Ianto thought about the last time he'd been truly happy, back at Christmas. He'd gone to Cardiff to see his family, the tenuous rebuilding process still shaky, though slowly growing into something almost resembling his relationship with them when…well, when he was younger. Before he'd first moved to London and joined Torchwood One. They had years of distance to work through, but for the first time, Ianto felt like he could be honest with his family, and they welcomed him back with open arms after all they had been through in the fall. It was a foundation he hadn't realized he'd been missing in his life.

And then there had been Jack. Ianto had wanted so badly to see Jack, but he'd been too nervous, uncertain of the reception he'd receive after their emotional parting in London. He hadn't called, but eventually he'd found himself wandering the Plass, gazing at the construction site that had once been the Hub, letting his regrets lead him as he considered all that had changed in so short a time. Which was where Jack had found him, as if watching or waiting. They'd gone to dinner, ostensibly as two friends and coworkers catching up after several months apart, but it hadn't taken long before they'd tumbled into Ianto's bed at the Plaza for the rest of the weekend.

It had been amazing, so amazing that Ianto had hated leaving Cardiff to return to London when he'd been called back to deal with the latest crisis the city barely averted every year at the holidays. But Jack had gone with him, the Doctor had arrived, and they had saved the world together with another pulse-pounding adventure worthy of anything they'd been through at Torchwood. He and Jack had spent the New Year wrapped up together in Ianto's duvet, champagne on the bedside table. It had been the best New Year's Eve Ianto had ever celebrated, and in many ways, he hadn't wanted it to end.

Yet Jack hadn't asked for more, perhaps fearing another rejection, and the day after he'd returned to Cardiff, where he was overseeing the continued excavation and recovery of the Hub, Ianto had found a new flat, unable to stay where he'd be reminded of Jack every night. The bedding, saturated with Jack's scent, had to go too. He'd run again, though it was only across town and he'd kept his own name. And he'd kept his job—thrown himself into the work, actually. Yet it didn't dull the facts. Work wasn't the answer. The new flat was still lonely. And too often Ianto knew exactly why.

He missed his fieldwork with UNIT, he missed his old job at Torchwood, and most of all, he missed Jack. He'd been able to bury it while working for UNIT, going undercover and hiding from even himself, but going back to Cardiff had brought it all back. How he'd felt when Jack left with his Doctor, and how he'd felt when Jack had returned to ask him on an actual date. Growing closer and watching Jack react to almost losing Gwen and then Owen. Ianto had left to protect himself as much as the others, immersing himself in his work with UNIT, trying to leave it all behind and start a new life where he couldn't lose his heart again. Because he knew he would if he let himself be with Jack. It had happened once already with Lisa, and he couldn't take the risk of it happening again with Jack.

He should have known he couldn't really leave Torchwood behind, and that he especially couldn't leave Jack. He hadn't been able to leave Lisa at Canary Wharf, only moving on with her death. Given that Jack couldn't die, Ianto should have realized he'd been fighting a losing battle against his feelings from the start. Yet the logical part of his brain still told him every day that he'd done the right thing. Letting himself love Jack and be with Jack would only result in heartbreak when Jack left, and Ianto had suffered too much when Lisa had died to go through that again.

Yet he was still alone. He'd been with the Home Office for six months and had been on exactly one date—with Lois, actually. They'd decided it was so awkward that they'd never try it again, and had grown remarkably close as coworkers and friends instead—close enough for her to accuse him of pining over Jack and to just do something about it already, to which he had graced her with an epic eyeroll. She had recently started dating a bloke in her building, and Ianto was happy for her. For him there was no one at work, no one in his neighborhood, no one at all. Which was why he was sitting at home by himself on a Friday night waiting for take away, and definitely not looking forward to another weekend alone.

If he didn't feel so despondent, he'd be angry at himself. Angry at his ridiculous insistence on closing himself off from others, and from Jack, when all he really wanted was to be happy, to do good work and maybe save the world on occasion, perhaps with a somewhat normal life on the side. But Jack would never do normal. He might truly love Ianto, but he was immortal and naturally restless on top of it. He was from another time, another planet, and Ianto wished he was enough to hold Jack's heart, but he wasn't. He was just a blip in time, and when it came down to it…he wanted to be more.

He started to doze off, waking with a start when there was a knock on the door. Jumping up in surprise, he blinked a few times before realizing it was probably his dinner. He pulled out his wallet and hurried toward the door as the knocking continued, taking out several pounds with one hand while combing out his disheveled hair with the other. He opened the door, still counting out the right amount.

"How much again?" he asked without looking up.

"Oh, I'm much too expensive for most people," said a familiar voice. "But for you I'll make a deal."

Ianto glanced up in surprise. "Jack?" he stuttered, stating the obvious. Jack laughed at the look on his face.

"Expecting someone else?" he teased.

"Oh, er…" Ianto couldn't help but stare at the man before him. "No, just take away. Late dinner." Something was wrong. Jack had cuts and bruises on his face, and what appeared to be stitches near his temple. His left forearm was wrapped in bandages, and he was holding himself gingerly. "Jack, what happened to you?"

Jack actually grinned, as if his injuries were a source of amusement rather than pain. He looked a mess, and Ianto couldn't imagine what had happened to put him that way, nor what he was doing in London grinning about it.

"Big bomb," said Jack with a wink. "It's a good story, too, but I'd rather tell it sitting down."

"Right, sorry." Ianto stood back and gestured for Jack to enter. Jack grimaced as he reached down to pick up an overnight bag from the floor beside him. Ianto took it instead and frowned as Jack limped into the living room, clearly favoring his right leg.

"I like the new place," he said, glancing around and nodding in approval.

"The kitchen is rubbish," Ianto replied, still too dumbfounded by Jack's late night appearance and injuries to wrap his brain around anything more articulate. He wondered how Jack had found out his new address, then decided he didn't care at that moment. It was good to see him, even if it made no sense whatsoever.

"When did you move?" Jack asked. Ianto set the bag down and watched as Jack carefully lowered himself to the sofa, leaned back, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

"January," said Ianto. "Jack, are you all right? You look…well, awful."

"I don't feel so great either." He was smiling as he said it, though, as if it was a good thing.

"Can I get you anything?" Ianto asked. "Water, coffee, painkillers?"

"Had them all on the train," Jack laughed, sitting up straighter and pointing toward the empty glass on the table. "But something stronger would be great."

"I'll be right back," said Ianto. "Um…yeah." He grabbed his glass, knowing he'd need another, then turned and started toward the kitchen, his mind still buzzing. Jack limped in after him, leaving Ianto no time to gather his thoughts and feelings into something resembling coherence.

"You should be resting," Ianto said. "You're obviously in pain."

Jack shrugged. "I wanted to see you," he said. Ianto rolled his eyes and pointed Jack toward the tall metal table in the corner. Jack struggled to sit, but once he was, he sighed again, before scratching at the bandage on his arm with a grimace. Ianto got them both a glass of water and placed the bowl of nuts he'd been snacking on earlier in the center of the table before taking out his McCallan 18 and pouring it straight the way Jack liked it, a double for each of them.

"What happened?" Ianto asked, sitting across from him. "I assume the bomb you're referring to is the one that took out the House of the Dead."

"Yep," said Jack, popping a few nuts into his mouth. Ianto frowned again. Something was going on, and it was throwing Ianto off. Jack showing up late in London, injured yet so happy…Ianto thought about calling Gwen to make sure he didn't have an alien imposter in his kitchen.

"The same bomb that also closed the Rift?" Ianto asked. He leaned back against his chair, wary of getting too close to Jack after what had happened at the New Year, even though he wanted to so badly, to reassure himself that Jack was all right.

"The very same," said Jack.

"Thanks for calling to let us know," Ianto offered, letting the sarcasm come through clearly. "We are supposed to keep track of those sorts of things, you know."

Jack nodded and knocked back half his drink. "I know, but we needed to be sure."

"And it took you three days?" Ianto asked.

"Not really," said Jack, "but there were other things going on. I got a bit banged up, for one. Six stitches, two bruised ribs, slight concussion, and lots of cuts and bruises."

"I noticed," Ianto murmured, but then it occurred to him: three days. If Jack had been injured in the bombing three days ago, he should have healed already. He sat up straighter and stared at Jack.

Jack, however, was completely oblivious to Ianto's sudden attention. "Then the Weevils decided they didn't like the Rift being closed and came out in droves." He waved his wrapped arm at Ianto with that same goofy grin he'd already flashed several times that night. "Got this the next day throwing them back into the sewers."

"Jack…"

"Banged up my knee, too," he continued. "Tackling the bastard who bit me. And damn if it doesn't all hurt like nothing else. I've never taken so many painkillers. Stitches are awful. And changing dressings? Pain in the arse."

"Jack—"

Jack continued, though, either deliberately or due to nerves, Ianto wasn't sure. Ianto, however, was starting to grow genuinely frightened the more Jack talked. "But we had to close it, or else another one of those apocalyptic monsters would have been released to destroy the world. I swear, I don't know why people throw their evil beasts into the Rift for others to deal with. This one was particularly nasty, and she—"

"Jack!" Ianto shouted, placing his hand down loudly on the table and forcing the man to look at him. "I get it. You blew up another monster to save the world. Thank you. Now tell me this…why aren't you healing? Why do you need stitches and wrappings and painkillers? It was three days ago!"

"Ah, well," said Jack, nodding before he finished his drink. "That's one of the things that kept us from contacting you sooner. We wanted to be sure about something else as well.  _I_ wanted to be sure."

"Be sure of what? Jack, are you all right?" Ianto demanded. "Because I'm about to panic here and call Martha or Gwen to have them tell me the story."

Jack reached over and took Ianto's hand, his thumb rubbing circles across Ianto's palm and sending shivers of both fear and desire through him. He looked up and met Ianto's eyes, that same smile on his face, his eyes bright. And Ianto noticed something else, the thing he couldn't place that seemed so different: Jack looked unburdened, free.

"I wanted to be sure," Jack murmured again, his gaze going distant for a moment. "So Martha called the Doctor. He left this afternoon and I was on the next train to London. I had to see you."

Ianto's stomach plummeted as realization struck: Jack's injuries, the Doctor, coming to London. This was it. After almost two centuries, Jack was finally dying. It was the only explanation, and Ianto felt his eyes well with tears. Jack grinned and reached across the table to brush them away.

"You're jumping to conclusions, aren't you?" he asked, then laughed. Ianto's eyes went wide, because it was the most uninhibited, open, joyful laugh he'd ever heard from Jack. It broke Ianto's heart that Jack could be so happy to be dying, even though he knew that Jack had led a long and difficult life and often feared what living for eternity would do to him. But Ianto didn't want Jack to die. He loved Jack. He knew that, he was just too terrified to truly accept it and live with it, and now he would never have a chance. Jack had come to London, quite possibly to die in Ianto's arms.

"I hope I'm wrong," Ianto whispered.

"You are," Jack replied. He stood and came around the table to stand in front of Ianto, bringing his good hand to Ianto's face, brushing his fingers along Ianto's chin and jaw, back behind his ear before resting on his neck and pulling Ianto up and toward him so that they were resting their foreheads together. Ianto was certain Jack could hear his heart racing with fear.

"I'm not dying," Jack said, blue eyes so intense Ianto almost stepped away. He let his eyes flutter closed in relief.

"Thank god," he whispered.

Jack stepped forward so that they were even closer, then tilted Ianto's chin up, forcing his eyes open. Was he leaving? Maybe that was it—Jack had called the Doctor and was leaving for good. It was Ianto's worst fear, that Jack would leave, and now he was there to say goodbye, only Ianto wasn't ready to say goodbye, not now, not forever, not before—

"I'm fixed," said Jack, his voice breaking.

"What?" asked Ianto, confused. Jack didn't look fixed, he was still injured, still in pain. "What do you mean, you're still hurt—"

"That's because I'm like you," said Jack.

"I don't understand," whispered Ianto.

"I'm mortal."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know I love cliffhangers, so no apologies. This is another moment that I have been looking forward to sharing. Many thanks to Taamar for her support and beta-reading! Enjoy chewing on it while I work on editing Jack's much needed explanation for Ianto. It's quite a bit longer than this. Not long to go, though, so thank you for reading and sticking with this story!
> 
>  


	25. The House of the Dead

The House of the Dead

"I'm mortal."

Jack had thought he'd never say those words again. It seemed a ridiculous thing to say out loud, but he'd lived as an immortal for so long that he relished the chance to declare something every other person on the planet took for granted. He also grinned at Ianto's reaction.

The Welshman froze, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Then he stumbled backwards, away from Jack, one hand at his temple, the other waving aimlessly through the air. Jack had always enjoyed leaving Ianto speechless, but this was better than any other time he'd managed to shock or surprise the Welshman. Ianto shook his head repeatedly before wandering back into the main room, scotch in hand. Jack followed, bringing the bottle in case Ianto needed another. Which he clearly did.

Ianto set his now empty glass down on the coffee table and whirled around to Jack.

"Say it again," he demanded, then let his voice drop lower. "I can't believe it until I hear it again."

Jack limped over to Ianto and took his hand, leading him to the sofa where they sat side by side, facing one another. Jack had been nervous for the entire train ride to London, unsure of Ianto's reception and reaction. Would the other man be angry or upset, disbelieving or mistrusting, bitter or resentful? Ianto had any number of reasons to react negatively, even though Jack hoped with all his heart that Ianto would embrace the change.

"I'm mortal," Jack repeated quietly. He couldn't help but grin again, earning an incredulous look from Ianto. "No, really. It had to do with the bomb and the Rift. We confirmed it with the Doctor and now I—"

"Tell me," said Ianto, his voice shaking as he interrupted. "Tell me what happened. So I can believe."

Jack nodded. "All right. It's a bit of a story, but it's all true, I promise. It happened when I went to the House of the Dead."

"To blow up another monster," Ianto filled in. He leaned forward and poured himself another drink.

"We'd had word that the pub was having one last séance before closing for good. It was timed to coordinate with a predicted increase in Rift activity that night, at that location. We…we were lucky we even heard about it, and that we managed to track down enough history of the pub to put it all together."

"How?" whispered Ianto. "And why didn't you call?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at that last, although he was fairly sure that Ianto meant personally and not professionally. "I wasn't sure at first, about anything. I didn't want to call you or your office before we knew there was an issue." Ianto opened his mouth, and Jack stopped him. "It's our job to handle the Rift, you know."

"If the end of the world was nigh, you should have called!" Ianto exclaimed. Jack bit back the impulse to bristle angrily at him, knowing perfectly well that Ianto was displacing his feelings of shock and uncertainty onto Jack. "We could have been prepared, could have helped, could have—"

"You could have made it worse," Jack said, taking Ianto's nervous hands and holding them tightly. "You of all people know we work best as a small team, unencumbered by red tape. We handled it, and had we needed backup, UNIT is always on standby for us. You're not actually upset that we didn't notify your office ahead of time, are you? Because we haven't every other time something's gone down with the Rift."

Ianto stared at him, then shook his head as his eyes slipped closed. "No," he whispered. "But you could have died. Forever, Jack."

"I didn't know that going in," Jack said, leaning back. "I went in with a bomb, intending to close the Rift to stop Syriath from being released. Easy. I evacuated the pub and was about to place it in the cellar when…" He trailed off, his face screwed up in pain. "Syriath tricked me. She manipulated me into believing you were there."

"What?" Ianto asked, sounding confused. "I don't understand. Why did you think I was there and not in London?"

"It's confusing," Jack replied, thinking back to that night…

...

_"Jack?" Martha called over the comms. "Jack, are you there?"_

_Jack frowned. He'd gone to the pub on his own, intending to get the job done as quickly as he could. Martha was back at the new Hub, monitoring Jack as well as Mickey, who was out chasing Weevils stirred up by the upcoming Rift event they'd picked up on equipment they were still fine tuning. But she was supposed to be maintaining radio silence except in case of an emergency, and he hadn't felt his headpiece vibrate. He hoped nothing had happened to Mickey._

_"Yes, Martha, I'm here," he responded quietly, instantly wary. There must be a reason for her to be calling, and it couldn't be a good one. "What's going on? Everything okay back there?"_

_"Everything's quiet here," she said, and he noticed the catch in her voice. Something was definitely wrong. "It's just that…oh Jack…"_

_"What is it? What's wrong?" he demanded. "Are you all right? Is it Mickey? Has something happened to Gwen and the baby?"_

_"No, I'm fine and nothing's happened to the baby," she said. "Mickey's fine, too, but I've had a call from London, about Ianto…"_

_Jack stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Something had happened to Ianto. But it couldn't, not now, not when he hadn't had another chance with the Welshman. She must be mistaken._

_"Jack, I think whatever's going on here might be affecting London," she started, but Jack cut her off._

_"That's impossible," he snapped. "This is Rift related and the Rift doesn't stretch that far."_

_"He's dead, Jack," she said, her voice catching uncharacteristically. "I'm so sorry, but they called and said Ianto's been killed. Something's happened in London."_

_"What?" he demanded. "Who called? What happened?"_

_"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me," she said. "But he's gone, Jack. You need to get out of there!"_

_"No," he said, shaking his head even though he couldn't see her. It didn't make sense. "You're wrong, he's not dead. It's a trick, Martha. I can't leave, I have to stop Syriath tonight. Otherwise—"_

_"What if he's there?" Martha interrupted. "You said so yourself, that Syriath brings back the dead! Maybe this is part of the plan."_

_"There's no way she could have killed Ianto!" Jack hissed. "She's manipulating you, manipulating both of us. It's not true." He'd come in expecting to meet any number of ghosts as he attempted to stop the séance, but Ianto was not one he had anticipated. He'd assumed the Welshman was safe in London; the thought of Ianto lying dead in a morgue was one he could barely wrap his mind around. He'd always thought he'd have another chance with the man, especially after Christmas. He knew that Ianto loved him, but was too afraid to follow through on it, and Jack had hoped that giving the Welshman his space might help Ianto accept his feelings. In the six months since the 456 had ripped apart so many lives, Jack had not given up hope once. Yet what hope was there if Ianto truly was dead? He shook his head of doubts._

_Martha was speaking again, but Jack cut her off. "Martha, it'll be all right," he told her. "Tell the others it's not possible. I'll be back as soon as I can to sort things out, but I have to do this first, no matter what this bitch tries on with me."_

_"Jack—"_

_"Be careful, Martha. She's onto us." He touched the button on his comm. to turn it off, but it beeped at him, so he hit it again, unable to continue listening for fear of not being able to complete his mission if he dwelled on the possibility. Stop the séance, plant the bomb, close the Rift forever. Then he would call Ianto, no matter the hour, and reassure himself that he was alive. Hell, he'd drive to London just to make sure…_

...

"Of course, no one at the pub believed me when I tried to tell them they were in danger," Jack said softly, staring at a painting on the wall across from him, unseeing as he replayed that night in his mind's eye. "They were all being manipulated by Syriath. She brought back their loved ones, the ones they'd lost. What chance did I ever have of convincing them to stop when they had one last chance to say goodbye?"

"Were they…were they real?" Ianto asked quietly, as if afraid to break a spell. "The ghosts?" Jack turned and looked at him.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Perhaps some of them. It looked real, it felt real. But you weren't really dead, you were alive and perfectly safe in London…only you were also in the House of the Dead. I saw you." Jack shuddered as he recalled Ianto's appearance in the pub and was glad when Ianto reached over and held his hand tight…

...

_"Jack? Jack, something's happening. Where are you?"_

_Jack turned and stared at the figure before him, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. It wasn't possible. He'd been so sure Martha was being manipulated, that Syriath had somehow reached out to make her think Ianto had been killed. Yet it must be true: Ianto Jones was dead, because his ghost was standing before Jack, confused and upset. Jack staggered backward, unable to accept it. It was all he could do to stop himself from reaching out for the Welshman, to take comfort in his arms. But he was a ghost; he wasn't real. Ianto was dead, brought back by Syriath to trick him, like Martha had warned him. Had Syriath killed Ianto as well, or was it some horrible cosmic coincidence?_

_"I'm here," Jack said, and Ianto turned. God, he was even wearing a suit, the one Jack had always complimented him on at the Hub. Irrationally, Jack wondered how it had survived unscathed given Ianto's propensity to ruin his best suits. Maybe ghosts got to choose their favorite outfits. And now Jack would never get to see it again, never get to take it off and reverently explore the man beneath. He bit back a sob. "I'm here, Ianto."_

_"Jack, thank god! I'm sorry, Jack, I couldn't stop it."_

_"Couldn't stop what?" asked Jack, assuming that Ianto meant whatever had killed him. God, what had happened? Had Syriath really reached so far? How? But Ianto looked even more bewildered and frightened when he clearly couldn't recall what he'd been trying to stop._

_"I…I don't know. I can't remember!"_

_"It's all right," Jack soothed him, stepping closer, once against resisting the impulse to reach out to Ianto. His heart was breaking with the thought that his Ianto, the real Ianto, must truly be dead in London. It wasn't fair. Jack couldn't lose him, he loved him…_

_"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his eyes slipping closed as the tears he could no longer hold back fell. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there, that I couldn't save you, that you've been pulled back here all because of me."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_Jack wiped his eyes. "You're dead, Ianto. Martha said you were killed in London earlier today."_

_"Oh." Ianto staggered backward until he found a chair to collapse in. "That's unexpected."_

_Jack immediately kneeled in front of him. "I didn't believe her, but now you're here. What happened? Are you all right?"_

_Ianto laughed nervously. "Obviously not," he replied. He took a deep breath, though Jack doubted ghosts needed to breathe. "I don't feel dead. Are you sure?"_

_Jack shrugged helplessly. He didn't want to believe, but the evidence before him seemed irrefutable._

_"I don't remember anything at all," Ianto murmured. "Do you know what happened?"_

_"No," said Jack. "I don't know anything at all. I'm as confused as you are. Martha thinks it's related, that Syriath killed you to get to me."_

_"Where are we?" Ianto asked, glancing around. "Seems a funny sort of place to show up and haunt."_

_"You're in Cardiff," Jack replied. "It's the House of the Dead, the—"_

_"—the most haunted pub in all of Wales," Ianto finished with a nod. "I've heard of it. So, I'm haunting a crowded bar, hoping for one last pint?"_

_"Not exactly," said Jack, pulling up a chair._

_"What are you doing here?" Ianto asked. He seemed less upset and more curious now, having apparently accepted his inevitable demise. It felt surreal, to be talking to Ianto's ghost, as if he weren't dead and Jack weren't about to destroy the Rift._

_"I'm here to save the world, of course," Jack replied bitterly. It hadn't bothered him before, going to the pub to stop Syriath; just another night's work, with a bit more of a bang than usual. Yet knowing that he'd failed to be there for Ianto—even if the Welshman had died far away in London—made it harder now. Jack wanted nothing more than to leave the pub, to rush to London and either find Ianto alive and well, or collapse weeping in the man's bed._

_"Of course," Ianto replied with a sad smile. "How are you doing it this time?"_

_"There is a secret, hidden underneath the Rift. A shadow from the oldest universe of all. Syriath: The Death-Feeder. She's been trapped since before there was such a thing as time."_

_"And she's found a way to escape," said Ianto, catching on quickly. Jack nodded; it felt like old times, except there would never be such times again now._

**_"_ ** _Yeah. Everything's in alignment. At the right place, at the right time, comes the right woman."_

" _I don't understand," said Ianto._

**_"_ ** _A psychic, Mrs. Wintergreen. She's the bridge between worlds. A powerful psychic holding a séance in the most haunted pub in Wales._

_"The House of the Dead," Ianto nodded. "Built on ley lines, inside an old stone circle, and smack on top of the Rift. Right. If anything would work, that would do it."_

_Jack wondered how Ianto knew so much about the pub and the area surrounding it, but then again, he'd always said he knew everything, and he'd always been able to make connections quickly. "The pub is on a crack in the Rift. A point weak enough for Syriath to escape if someone strong enough reaches out to her. And the ghosts are tempting Mrs. Wintergreen to do just that."_

_"But how?" asked Ianto._

_Jack stood up and started pacing. "Syriath comes from before time, so she can bend it. She's sending people visions to trap them. All these people have come here, wanting to see their loved ones just one more time. And Syriath is feeding off that need. She'll ensnare them, and then she'll devour them. If she reaches this world, she'll rip it apart using the dead as her weapon."_

_"And you're trying to stop her," Ianto stated. "Saving the world again."_

_Jack picked up the box he'd been planning to place in the basement. "With this. Rocks from the hills, coal from the cellar, and a tiny detonator. Just enough to make a lot of dust."_

_"Dust?" asked Ianto, thoroughly confused once more. In spite of his grief, Jack couldn't help but grin._

**_"_ ** _All of Wales is a giant battery of stored Rift energy. Cardiff Counsel think it's radon, but something far richer is held in these stones. It's harmless, unless you release it as one world falls into another."_

_"That's how you're going to destroy Syriath." Jack thought he saw a flash of emotion—fear, anger?— cross Ianto's face before he glanced warily at the simple box._

_"The moment she reaches this world, I'm going to detonate the energy stored in that package. It'll wipe out Syriath and seal the Rift forever. In these stones horizons sing."_

**_"_ ** _Seal the Rift?" Ianto whispered._

**_"_ ** _It's time has come." Which was true. The Rift brought little more than blood and violence to Cardiff, with heartbreak and grief. To save the world, Jack would gladly sacrifice the planet's temporal link to other times and places. They were centuries away from being able to control it, after all, and it was the only way to stop Syriath._

_Ianto jumped up. "No!" he exclaimed. "You can't do that! What will happen?"_

_Jack frowned at Ianto's reaction. "The Rift will close and an evil from before the beginning of time will be stopped." It seemed obvious._

_Ianto shook his head. "You could be killed."_

_"I'll come back," Jack said. "But I have to do this. I have to stop her."_

_"All right," Ianto said slowly. "But what happens to me?"_

...

"I should have realized then," Jack said quietly. "I should have realized it wasn't really you—you knew so much, and reacted strangely at times. But you've always been clever, and I passed the rest off as the shock of being dead and finding yourself haunting a pub."

"That would definitely throw me off," Ianto replied dryly.

"It didn't even occur to me that it wasn't actually Martha who called," said Jack. "She was coordinating at the Hub, after all. I thought  _she_  was being manipulated, until I saw you and believed. Maybe it was something about the pub that stopped me questioning. I assumed I would see someone…maybe Tosh or Owen, maybe Jake or…well, any number of people I've lost over the years. But she reached into my mind and found the one person whose death would confuse and upset me the most. You."

"I'm sorry," Ianto murmured.

"It's not your fault," Jack replied with a bitter laugh. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I couldn't, not after being told that you'd died, and then seeing you there before me. I fell for it, all of it. And then…god, then it got even worse."

"I'm not sure I want to know," said Ianto. "What happened?"

"Owen appeared," Jack whispered. Ianto went pale as Jack continued…

...

_"What about you, teaboy? You're dead," answered an acerbic voice behind them. Jack whirled to see Owen Harper standing there smirking at them, yet there was a sad look in the doctor's eyes as he gazed at Ianto._

_"Owen?" Jack asked. "What's going on?" He wasn't surprised to see Owen, and a part of him wondered if Tosh would appear as well. Being two of the most recent and more difficult losses in his life, he'd half expected to see them, knowing how Syriath used people's grief against them. But Ianto had been a shock, and he didn't understand why Owen would appear now when nothing could devastate him more than losing Ianto._

_"Teaboy asked a question, and I happen to know the answer." The doctor cocked his head at Ianto. "You could leave. Walk out of here, alive and whole, like nothing ever happened."_

_"I don't know what happened," Ianto started, but Owen interrupted him._

_"You died." His voice was surprisingly gentle. "And this place is giving you the chance to live again, to go back." He paused, looking even more sad. "To Jack."_

_"I don't understand," Ianto murmured. Jack stared at Owen, dumbfounded and speechless._

_"Neither do I, teaboy. Neither do I. But you left him once and he was devastated. Do you really want to leave him again? Forever?"_

_Ianto frowned and glanced at Jack, who didn't know what to say. Ianto was dead; there was no way he could walk out of the pub alive. And yet, Jack wanted so badly to believe…_

_"Hi Ianto," said a new voice, and the ghost of Toshiko Sato appeared next to Owen. Ianto let out a little sound and reached toward her. She smiled at him, glanced at Owen, and nodded._

_"He's right, Ianto. You could leave. Give us the bomb, and you could live again."_

_"But how?" asked Ianto._

_"You're not long dead," she said. "And this place is soaked in Rift energy. If you leave now, it will center around you and give you back your corporeal form."_

_"That's not possible," Jack whispered. "The Rift doesn't work like that."_

_Owen rolled his eyes as Tosh turned toward him. "I know it sounds ridiculous, Jack, but this place is different. You should go, both of you. Together."_

_"We're already dead," said Owen. "We don't mind getting blown up to save the world again."_

_Jack glanced at Ianto, who appeared tempted. Yet it still didn't make sense to him. If Ianto could leave, then Tosh and Owen could leave as well. They could be a team again. "What about you? Come with us!"_

_"We can't, Jack," said Tosh sadly. "It's been too long for us. But you have another chance with Ianto. Give us the bomb!"_

_"Yeah, leave us the bomb and go have a shag somewhere," Owen said._

_Jack stared at the box in his hands. It seemed so simple…but it didn't feel right, and his instincts told him it wasn't possible. He'd seen a lot of strange and amazing things in his life, but a ghost walking out of a haunted pub alive and human again was not one of them. And yet the box weighed heavily in his hands as he tried to sort his tangled thoughts. He could give it over, reach for Ianto's hand, and run. If Ianto had truly died in London, this could be their second chance…_

_"Jack?" called a voice in his ear. "Are you there? Jack!"_

_He tapped his earpiece, felt it click on. "Martha? What's wrong?"_

_"You've got to get out of there, Jack! The Rift is active, something's happening!"_

_Jack glanced at the bomb in his hands, confused and uncertain. He looked up at Tosh and Owen, waiting almost eagerly for the bomb, and then at Ianto, who looked almost desperate. And suddenly everything was clear, like a mist had been lifted from his eyes. "Martha, is everything all right in London?" he asked._

_"As far as I know," she said, sounding confused. "Why?"_

_"Have we had any calls from Whitehall? From Ianto?" he pressed, letting his eyes slip closed with a silent prayer that he was right._

_"No, nothing that I'm aware of," she replied. "What's going on, Jack?"_

_"I think I've figured it out," he replied. "Is Mickey back?"_

_"I'm here, mate," said Mickey. "What's up?"_

_"I'm about to detonate the bomb, but I don't think I'll be able to clear the area quickly enough. I need you here for recovery."_

_"Recovery?" Mickey asked, sounding as confused as Martha had earlier._

_"My body," said Jack. "Get here as quick as you can."_

_"I'm coming too!" called Martha._

_"I need someone to watch the Rift—" Jack started, but Martha cut him off._

_"I don't care. If you're getting yourself blown up again, I'm coming to collect you!"_

_"Fine, but make it fast. We don't have long." Jack hit his comm. unit and turned back to the others._

_"All right, the game's up. I know what's going on here."_

_Tosh and Owen didn't react, but Ianto stepped forward, reaching out to him. "Jack? What do you mean, you know what's going on? What did Martha say about me?"_

_"She's had no word from London," Jack replied. Ianto shook his head._

_"So?"_

_"So you're not dead, which means you're not Ianto Jones." He stepped forward and leaned in close with a snarl. "You can stop playing games, Syriath. It's over. I'm not handing over the bomb and walking out. Take your ghosts and get ready to be blown to oblivion!"_

...

"Quote-worthy," Ianto murmured. He still looked somewhat wild around the eyes and started to pour himself another drink. At that moment there was knock at the door that made them both jump, causing Ianto to spill scotch over the table with a curse. Jumping up, he carelessly and very uncharacteristically wiped his hand on his trousers and hurried to the door. Jack listened to the short exchange, then Ianto walked by with a large white bag that he deposited in the kitchen before returning to the sofa.

"You were threatening to blow someone up?" he asked, wiping down the table with a cloth, pouring another drink, and taking a sip. Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Wasn't that your dinner?" he pointed out.

"Not hungry," said Ianto, shaking his head. He was still clearly rattled.

"I am," Jack offered.

"I'll reheat it," Ianto replied. "Finish your story." He closed his eyes and opened them with an unspoken apology. "Please, Jack. Tell me the rest first."

"There's not much else," Jack replied, sitting back and sipping his drink. "You attacked me after that—"

"Wait, what?" Ianto exclaimed. "I attacked you?"

"Well, I suppose I should say that Syriath's creation attacked me. In the form she made to look like you. It was surreal. We fought, and you were good—not a surprise considering you were really a supernatural entity from the beginning of time, and an emotionally manipulative one at that…"

...

_Jack?" said Ianto, stepping forward with his hand out. "Please stop."_

_"No," said Jack, holding tight to the box. "I won't. I can't. This isn't you, this isn't them! This is all Syriath trying to stop me from destroying her."_

_Ianto shook his head. "I don't care what's really going on, Jack. I don't want you to die."_

_"You're lying," Jack hissed. "You know perfectly well I'll come back!"_

_"That doesn't stop me hating it every time," Ianto snapped back, then took a deep breath. "I can't bear watching you die, I never could. We have a chance to leave this place safe and together. Why wouldn't we take it?"_

_"Because it's not real!" Jack replied. "You're not real. They're not real. And I have to stop it."_

_"Please give them the bomb," Ianto whispered, stepping closer once more. He laid a shaking hand on Jack's arm, and to Jack's shock it didn't pass right though; it was solid and warm. When Jack didn't move, Ianto moved forward, close enough to stand eye to eye with him. "I want to do what they said. I want to walk away and live again."_

_Jack hardened his jaw as Ianto leaned forward to kiss him. God, it even_ felt _like Ianto, and it was so hard not to open his mouth and respond. Yet he remained still until Ianto stepped backward, looking confused and heartbroken._

_"Jack?"_

_"I'm sorry," Jack said quietly. "But I don't believe you. I can't."_

_"What if you're wrong? What if you destroy the House of the Dead and I'm lost forever?" Ianto asked._

_"Then I will have saved the world," Jack replied, though it broke his heart to say it. Ianto's face instantly changed, contorting with a sneer as he stepped away. Behind him, Tosh and Owen faded away._

_"You're a fool!" Ianto hissed. "You've sacrificed everything for centuries and received nothing in return! I could give you all you ever wanted!"_

_"There's nothing you can give me."_

_"He will age," said the false Ianto. Jack watched in sick fascination as the man before him began to grow old, his hair graying, wrinkles forming across his forehead, crow's feet appearing around his eyes. His lips thinned, his neck sagged, and soon his hair was thin and white. Milky cataracts hid blue eyes and age spots dappled his paper-white skin. The old man before him grinned, showing missing teeth, and a skeletal hand touched Jack's arm, causing him to jump. "And someday he will die."_

_"What's your point?" Jack growled, backing away from the man's cold touch. With a shake of his shoulders, the figure before him returned to the young, suited man he had found in the pub, his hair dark, his skin smooth, his eyes clear._

_"I won't," said Ianto. "They weren't lying. I can leave this place. I can be with you forever."_

_"That's sick," whispered Jack. "You're not him! Why would I want to be with …with whatever you are…for eternity?"_

_"I'm not Syriath," said Ianto, shaking his head. "I was created by her, but if you leave the bomb, she will release me to you. Forever."_

_"Are you insane?" Jack actually laughed out loud. "Do you really think I'd even consider a…a recreation? When I know the real Ianto Jones is safe in London?"_

_"You don't know that," said Ianto with a cruel smirk he'd never seen on_ his  _Ianto's face._

_"I do," said Jack. "You're nothing but a pathetic attempt to recreate something—someone—amazing."_

_"I'm a dead man if you activate that bomb," the man said. "Right now I_ am _him, but I'll die if you destroy this place. Could you really do that?"_

_Jack stared at the creature before him, his lip curling. He was instantly reminded of their experience on Flat Holm and almost laughed at the terrible parallels. And yet, just as Ianto had stayed strong, so did Jack. There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever. This vision was not Ianto Jones and did not deserve to live._

_He armed the bomb with a feral smile. "Then I guess you're a dead man."_

_"No!" Ianto screamed, his voice inhuman. He threw himself at Jack, hitting and kicking and spitting. They tumbled to the ground and fought, the box falling from Jack's hands to land nearby. But it was armed, and Jack knew that even if he didn't get out on time, he'd come back. He'd already been through it once, after all…_

...

"The bomb was armed," said Jack, "So as soon as I had an opening, I ran."

Ianto stood up and started pacing. "You're serious? This thing that looked like me but wasn't really me attacked you? And you fought it? And you're grinning about it?"

Jack couldn't help it. He'd imagined Ianto's response a dozen times over and this was better than anything he'd pictured. It wasn't that he was enjoying Ianto's shock and dismay; it was that Ianto's every reaction helped bolster Jack's deepest hopes about the future now that some of the damning circumstances holding them both back had changed.

"I knew it wasn't you. I had my doubts from the start, but was I so shocked and upset it was easy to forget them, to be manipulated by Syriath. Yet it niggled at me until Martha called to say the Rift was active, and I knew then it wasn't you, because she didn't know anything about London calling to say you'd been killed."

"But…but…" Ianto trailed off, turning abruptly. "Wasn't it still confusing? I knew it wasn't you on Flat Holm, but it was still so hard…" His eyes fluttered closed. Jack stood up and went to him, pulling him into an embrace.

"It was strange, but I don't think it was nearly as hard as what you had to do. It wasn't you, and I didn't kill him. I managed to knock him out, and I ran, and the bomb went off. Unfortunately, I was caught in the blast." He pulled back. "Come sit down, please."

They returned to the sofa and Jack pulled Ianto toward him, surprised when the other man didn't resist and leaned against him. With his good arm around Ianto, Jack finished his story.

"The explosion stopped Syriath and closed the Rift, exactly as we had planned. Martha and Mickey made it up to the pub and pulled me out, and I woke up in hospital the next day. Syriath was destroyed, and the world was safe, but something had changed for me."

"This is the most confusing part," Ianto murmured. "You told me the Doctor couldn't change you, that nothing could—that you were a fixed point in time, forever."

"I was," Jack whispered, "and now I'm not. When I came to, I was still injured, still in pain. Martha was beside herself. She said my readings looked nothing like they normally did. She was certain I wasn't healing, but I figured given the situation, maybe it would take a bit longer, like with Abaddon."

"You died when you faced Abaddon," Ianto pointed out.

"And it took me a while to get back up. I assumed this was similar, since it involved another creature escaping from the Rift. So the next day I went after some Weevils and got myself knocked around some more. When it didn't heal either, Martha decided to call the Doctor. Because at that point, I think we both suspected that the game was up."

"But how?" asked Ianto.

"I was right there when a crack between worlds opened and a powerful bomb saturated with Rift energy exploded. It flooded the opening with its own energy, turning everything back on itself. The Doctor likened it to a supernova explosion forming a black hole. As it closed, it sucked all the vortex energy in the area back into itself, including the very energy that kept me alive and fixed in time. And it didn't just suck it all out of me, it severed my link to it completely. I became mortal."

Ianto was silent for so long that Jack half wondered if the man had fallen asleep. Or perhaps Ianto was too astonished to say anything. Jack sat quietly, content to let the man work through it at his own pace. Jack had been doing the same for three days, after all, and though he had a long way to go, he'd been through the shock of it and was now basking in the wonder.

"Hey, you awake?" he asked when he could stand it no longer.

"Yes," Ianto answered immediately. He turned and sat back, facing Jack with a very serious look on his face. "How do you feel?"

Jack was surprised by the question and answered without thought. "I'm still sore, stiff, tired—"

Ianto shook his head. "No, not just physically. How do you feel…otherwise?"

"Ah," said Jack, laughing through his nose. "You mean mentally. Emotionally."

"It's a big change," Ianto pointed out.

"I know," Jack replied. "At first I was stunned, and to be honest, scared. I thought I might die too soon, because in spite of how long I've lived, there are still things I want to do. So I refused to believe it until the Doctor arrived, and since then…" He smiled as he glanced down, the words stuck with emotion. "Since then I have felt better than I have in years. More than anything, I feel free."

"Because you can die now," Ianto said slowly, and Jack shook his head.

"Because I can  _live_  now. Ianto, I've spent my entire life here separated from everyone else because I'm different. It's been a long, difficult life, and even though I wouldn't change a thing about it, there have been so many times when the thought of continuing like this forever has been overwhelming. Terrifying. I'm so grateful and relieved that I don't have to go through that anymore, that I don't have to watch the world go by, watch everyone I love die, while I continue hurling toward the end of the universe. I'm excited to live a normal life."

Ianto held his gaze, but Jack could not read his thoughts, his feelings. Ianto had always held his cards close, though Jack had learned many of his tells and grown better at understanding the man. Yet at that moment, Jack felt his heart start racing with doubt, because he had no idea what Ianto was thinking. Was he happy for Jack? Was he upset? Was he worried? Jack tried not to imagine he saw something like hope in Ianto's blue eyes; it was probably only his own that Jack felt, hope for the future that dwindled with the silence that stretched between them.

"What will you do now?" Ianto asked quietly. Jack took a deep breath to settle his sudden nerves.

"I wanted to see you," he started.

"Why?" asked Ianto. Jack could still not read his face, and shrugged in reply.

"To let you know, to explain what happened, to talk to you—both personally and professionally."

That garnered a surprised reaction. "Professionally?" he asked.

"Torchwood Three exists to protect Cardiff from the Rift. The Rift is closed." He grinned. "As far as I'm concerned, it's time to look for a new job."

"What?" Ianto exclaimed. His body language came to life, hands gesturing wildly. "What do you mean, a new job? Are you leaving Torchwood? Leaving Earth? Jack, you can't, you—"

As he had so many times before, Jack stopped him with a kiss. Ianto looked as surprised at that as he did about Jack's statement. "You're cute when you're flustered."

"I'm not flustered," Ianto protested, his fingers brushing subconsciously along his lips where Jack had kissed him. "I'm confused. Why are you really here, Jack? Is it to say goodbye? Because I don't know if I can—"

"Will you stop already?" Jack laughed. When Ianto looked hurt by his amusement, Jack reached out for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm not here to say goodbye. I'm not going anywhere. But I think we—you, me, the Queen—need to have a conversation about the future of Torchwood. And I'd like to have a more personal conversation about the future of us."

"Oh god, Jack," Ianto whispered, his eyes closing. "Please don't do this. You can't show up here and—"

"And what?" Jack teased, enjoying himself in spite of the very real possibility of it all going wrong. "I can't show up and do what?" When Ianto looked at him helplessly, unable or unwilling to answer, Jack moved closer.

"Things have changed, Ianto.  _I've_  changed, in the most amazing way possible. So if I want to show up here and celebrate, I will. If I want to take you out for that dinner and movie I asked about six months ago, I will. If I want to quit my job, move to London, and start over, preferably with you, then I will."

"What?" Ianto whispered.

"I'm no longer an immortal time-traveler protecting a rift in time and space," Jack said. "And you will almost certainly live to see thirty working at Whitehall. I'd sort of like to see your hair turn grey…and now mine will too." Jack took a deep breath to finish, knowing he was taking one of the biggest risks of his life.

"So are you interested in watching me go grey?" he asked quietly, taking both of Ianto's hands in his and feeling the other man's nerves. "Because once again I am offering everything I possibly can. Anything you want." He leaned forward to whisper into Ianto's ear. "And I think you're not only interested, but you're ready."

This was it, this was why he had come to London, why he had taken a cab straight to Ianto's new flat. He'd thought of nothing else the entire way, and desperately hoped that Ianto wouldn't run again, wouldn't reject Jack now that he was mortal. Ianto had already turned him down once, but Jack knew, deep down, that they were meant to be together, more than ever now that they could make a far more normal life for themselves. And if not now, then he would simply try again. No matter how long he had to wait, no matter how many times he had to ask: someday they would build a different life together.

And as Ianto took a deep breath to answer, Jack hoped that life was about to start.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much of the italicized dialogue is from the BBC audio drama The House of the Dead, written by James Goss. No copyright infringement is intended. I obviously tweaked the story to fit with this one, which is really just me tweaking all of Series 3 in one big go.
> 
> Many thanks to Taamar for looking this over several times. I hope you enjoyed this slightly different version of the wonderful The House of the Dead. It was challenging, even knowing what I wanted to do with Jack becoming mortal. It was also one of those things I had in mind from early on, and it's been hard to sit on it for so long! Wow, we are close though! I'd apologize for the cliffhanger, but it's not like it's the worst one in the story, right? Thanks for reading!


	26. Revelations

Revelations

Ianto sat in front of the fireplace wrapped in a blanket and staring into the flames as his thoughts tumbled one over the other, a confused jumble of shock, incredulity, uncertainty, and fear. It was almost too much to take in all at once, and after tossing and turning without falling asleep for over an hour, he'd got up to sit with his thoughts. He didn't want to disturb Jack; he clearly needed the rest.

He was mortal now.

That one word could hold so much meaning, so much consequence, so much  _awe_  was not lost on Ianto at that moment. It was a word he'd never thought to associate with Jack, a word Jack had thought he'd never be able use again. And yet the undeniable evidence was sleeping in Ianto's bed, exhaustion written across his face: Jack, injured and unhealing.  _Mortal_.

Pulling a blanket around his shoulders, Ianto shook his head in wonder yet again. Jack was normal. It was what Jack had always wanted. He had waited for over one hundred years to meet the Doctor again, to find out what had happened to him and ask if it could be reversed. Yet the Doctor had not been able to fix Jack.

The Rift had.

It was staggering, that not only was the Rift gone, but Jack's immortality had apparently gone with it. Ianto couldn't settle on what emotion he felt the most. On the one hand, he felt an incredible sense of happiness and relief. Jack was clearly ecstatic about it, and Ianto couldn't help but sense and share in Jack's joy and excitement. At the same time, Ianto was concerned about Jack learning how to live as a mortal, and he was confused about what it might mean for them.

Jack had been mortal for three days. The first thing he'd done when he'd finally learned and accepted the truth was take the train to London, to Ianto. To tell him the tale, sharing his news with irrefutable joy. Jack's immortal torment was over, the Rift was closed; he could go anywhere, do anything, be with anyone, and he had come to London. To Ianto.

Some part of Ianto still couldn't help but wonder if Jack would be saying goodbye all too soon. He'd claimed he was staying, that he wanted to move to London to start over and be with Ianto. With no Rift to guard in Cardiff, he felt free of his ties to Torchwood, but Ianto couldn't fail to notice that Jack was also free of his biggest reason for staying on earth at all. The Doctor had come and gone but that didn't mean Jack would stay…did it?

Ianto wanted so badly to believe. He wanted to move past his fears, his doubts, his uncertainty _._  Jack's words resonated both in his heart and his head… Jack was excited to  _live,_ not die. And he wanted to start his new mortal life with Ianto. Yes, he was currently tucked into Ianto's bed, sleeping soundly, but Ianto wasn't sure whether he could let himself believe it meant something. It was probably just comfort, for them both. That's how it had all started, after all. Nothing more than comfort. And Ianto had held onto that fiercely, terrified of losing his heart to someone else who would leave him someday. He'd kept it casual and run when it had started to become more, all because he was scared.

Maybe it was time to let go of his fear, because he wanted to truly live too.

There was a buzzing from his mobile on the small table by the door. Frowning at the thought of someone texting him at one o'clock in the morning, Ianto walked over to grab the phone in the dark. An enigmatic message shone from the screen.

_Meet me in the back garden. D._

Ianto's garden was not large by any means, and usually kept under lock and key. It would be easy enough for someone to scale the fence, he supposed, but why text him if they were trying to break in and burgle him? Taking the small pistol he kept in the sofa table, Ianto made his way through the dark room toward the kitchen at the back, gun held loose against his thigh, then pulled aside the curtains to glance outside. His heart almost stopped in his chest as his eyes came to rest on something that definitely did not belong in his garden.

A blue police box.

Ianto fought the urge to run, to grab Jack and take his hand and run from the Doctor as fast and as far as they possibly could. But he knew that would be useless, because obviously the Doctor had come for Jack, and obviously Jack would be leaving with him. He had come to London to say goodbye to Ianto, in spite of his words otherwise. Or maybe he had come thinking to stay, but the Doctor had arrived to take him away.

The thought made Ianto irrationally angry, and not with Jack, but with this time traveler who had the gall to invade his garden in the middle of the night. At the very least, the Doctor could let Jack rest, and let Ianto have one last night with him.

Opening the door with every intention of storming outside and somehow throwing the man out of his garden, Ianto stopped on the steps as the door to the blue police box was flung open and a prickly looking older man stepped into the dry grass. He glanced around, nodded, then saw Ianto standing at his door and walked purposefully toward him.

"Good evening, Mr. Jones!" he said, holding out his hand. Ianto did not shake it and the man tucked it away behind him, now eyeing him warily. "Ah. It is good to see you again, though it appears the feeling is not mutual."

"I'm not sure why I should be glad to see you," Ianto replied. "The world's not exactly ending, so why are you in my garden?"

The man glanced around before turning back to Ianto. "I was aiming for your living room, but this was probably better."

"Yes, seeing as I wouldn't appreciate my furniture being destroyed. And it still doesn't tell me why you're here," Ianto replied. This man was less manic than the Doctors Ianto had met over the past year, but no less mysterious, it seemed. The Doctor's uneven and constantly changing personality drove Ianto to distraction; he never knew what to expect or how to react.

"I'm here to see you, of course," the Doctor replied. "This is your home, so it only makes sense that I've come to speak to you."

Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Me? And not Jack?"

"Jack?" asked the Doctor. "Oh, is he already here then?"

"He arrived earlier this evening, and he's asleep," said Ianto, surprised that the Doctor had known Jack's intentions. He pulled the door shut behind him, making sure not to lock himself out. For some reason, he didn't want to invite the Doctor into his flat, having experienced the Time Lord's habit of taking over every situation and wanting his home to remain his own. If he admitted it, he was feeling peevish and possessive, and since it was one o'clock in the morning and he was still dealing with Jack's life-changing announcement, Ianto decided he had the right to feel however he wanted.

"Good," nodded the Doctor. "He needs rest. He was quite banged up when I left him, and he's got a hard road ahead of him."

"What do you mean?" Ianto demanded. "What do you know?"

The Doctor cocked his head to one side. "Is there someplace we might sit down and talk?" He glanced hopefully at the door.

Ianto gestured toward a few chairs he kept on the back patio, anticipating nights where he could sit outside as the weather warmed. "This should do. I don't expect you'll be staying long." Even with the blanket still around his shoulders, Ianto was freezing, but he would not invite the man into his home.

"Quite chilly out," the Doctor said. "How about my ship? I'll make some tea."

"It's one o'clock in the morning and I'd like to go back to bed," Ianto replied. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Well, about Jack, obviously," the Doctor said. He sat down in a chair and crossed his legs, motioning to Ianto to join him. Ianto stayed standing, his arms clutching the blanket to stay warm.

"Obviously," he murmured. The Doctor nodded, either not hearing or ignoring Ianto's sarcastic agreement.

"He's mortal now," the Doctor said. "I never expected it to happen, but it did. The explosion in the Rift sucked the Time Vortex right out of him, leaving him as normal as any other human on this planet." He paused. "Except for his age and advanced genetics, of course."

Ianto bit back an impatient sigh. "I'm aware of all that. Jack told me earlier."

"Right. Of course he did." The Doctor leaned forward, hands on his knees. "Do you know the first thing he said when I told him? 'I have to see Ianto,' he said. 'I have to tell Ianto.' You're quite a special man, Ianto Jones, to warrant such an immediate reaction."

Ianto tried to shrug it off, still unsure what it meant that Jack had sped to London as soon as he could. "It's part of my job, to know these things," he offered. The Doctor laughed through his nose.

"Oh no, this has nothing to do with your job, Mr. Jones, and everything to do with  _you_. He's like you now, and I don't think he could be any happier. I really thought Jack would be upset, you know. He's been immortal for so long, I thought he might have finally accepted it. It's a unique thing, being able to throw yourself at danger and walk away unscathed."

"He waited over a hundred years for you to come back and help him!" Ianto snapped. "It's all he ever wanted, to be mortal again. Being able to die and get back up is… _was_  hell for him. He's all alone, because he's lost everyone he's every loved."

"Not anymore," the Doctor pointed out. "Not you, unless you're planning another disappearing act."

It was all Ianto could do to not punch the man sitting before him. Instead, he stared incredulously at the Doctor until he could find the right words. Which were the same words he'd already used, only far more cold and clipped.

"Why are you here?"

The Doctor stood and moved closer to Ianto. "I'm here to ask a favor of you," he said quietly, waiting for Ianto's reaction. Ianto wasn't sure if he could be more shocked and annoyed.

"You're here to…to…" He actually sputtered, turned, and walked away. Then he strode back, tossed his blanket on a chair, and shook his finger in the Doctor's face, as if reprimanding a recalcitrant child. "You have some nerve, you know."

"Asking a favor for a friend?" the Doctor asked. "Is that really such a terrible thing?"

"For Jack?" asked Ianto, and the older man nodded.

"And others, in the future. But for now, it's for Jack."

Ianto didn't answer, his mind too awash with visions of the Doctor sweeping Jack off his feet and taking him away, of Jack running toward the Tardis again, this time happily waving goodbye. He shook his head of the images. The Doctor assumed it was an answer.

"You do owe me, Mr. Jones."

"What?" Ianto exclaimed. "I don't owe you anything!"

"I believe I helped you steal something from the Black Archive not so long ago, didn't I?" The Doctor watched him shrewdly. Ianto hit back, aiming low.

"Because you wouldn't help me defeat the aliens intent on kidnapping one tenth of the world's children!"

The Doctor shook his head and glanced down. When he met Ianto's eyes again, he looked older, sadder, somehow. As if he truly had regrets that ate at his soul. "I told you then, sometimes I can't interfere, Mr. Jones. Some things are supposed to happen, even terrible things. I have to admit, however, that was not how I expected it to go."

"What?" demanded Ianto angrily, advancing on the Doctor again. "You didn't expect they would release a deadly virus and kill hundreds of people? That Jack would be converted when he tried to stand up to them the only way we knew how, with cybertechnology? That I'd have to shoot him to stop him?"

"Quite the contrary," said the Doctor. "I didn't expect _you_ to survive."

"Bastard," snarled Ianto, pushing the man away. "You thought I was going to die and you still did nothing to help?"

"Time often obscures what she must maintain, Mr. Jones." Once again the Doctor was speaking in riddles. Ianto's hand curled into a fist.

"What do you want from me?" he ground out. The Doctor bowed his head graciously and took something from the pocket of his long blue coat.

"Please give this to Jack for me," he said, handing Ianto a wrist strap that looked exactly like Jack's. He studied it closely. It  _was_  Jack's.

"He already has one," Ianto replied, holding it out for the Doctor. "The one you…your other face gave me at the Black Archive to get us back to Cardiff."

The Doctor waved his comment away. "It doesn't work. This one does." He ran a finger over it as Ianto held it at arm's length. "It works exactly as it's supposed to work."

Ianto stared at the wrist strap with shock and dismay. Jack's wrist strap had always been able to do a number of amazing things, but the one thing it had not been able to do was teleport in either space or time. It had shorted out when Jack had first come to Earth, and the Doctor had disabled it when Jack had returned. If the Doctor said it worked, did he mean…

"Yes," the Doctor nodded, apparently seeing Ianto's unasked question written across his face. "In every way, plus a few I added myself. Things the Time Agency probably should have thought of on their own, as far as I'm concerned."

"Why?" asked Ianto, wrapping a hand around the strap and holding it almost reverently now. It worked. Jack had a working vortex manipulator, which meant he could go anywhere in the galaxy, any point in time, all on his own. The thought terrified Ianto, even though he knew how much it would mean to Jack.

The Doctor studied him carefully, arms folded across his chest. At last he nodded, as if coming to a decision, and sat down again, motioning to the chair in front of him. "Please, sit down. I'm really not going to bite."

Ianto could almost hear Jack's reply to such a comment, but refrained from saying anything himself. He sat down, pulling the blanket across his shoulders as if it were a shield, maintaining his distance as he waited.

"Jack is facing an incredible change in his life right now. I don't think he realizes the magnitude of it."

"Of being mortal?" Ianto asked. "He's wanted it for decades. I think he knows exactly what it means."

"It's one thing to want something, another to actually possess it." The Doctor paused before continuing. "Jack was somewhat reckless when I first knew him. To say his condition rendered him more so is probably a bit of an understatement."

Ianto shook his head. "No, you're not giving him credit.  _Again_ ," he emphasized. "Jack's not reckless. He takes risks because he knows he can."

"That sounds reckless to me," the Doctor replied.

"No," Ianto argued. "He can be impulsive, but not reckless. He has nothing to risk, Doctor. He saves lives at the cost of his own because he always comes back. He's heroic to a fault, sacrificing his life so that others don't have to lose theirs."

"Right, right," the Doctor murmured. "Whatever you want to call it, Mr. Jones, it won't work anymore. If Jack throws himself in front of a bullet now, he won't come back. Do you see my point?"

"Of course I do," Ianto snapped. "It was one of the first things I thought of. Jack is going to have to relearn over a century's worth of ingrained thinking."

"Exactly!" said the Doctor. "Oh, you were clever in the Archive and you're still clever now."

"It's only been six months," Ianto replied dryly. The Doctor waved him off.

"This is why I'm talking to you. He'll listen to you. I tried to tell him before I left, but he wouldn't have it. He was in too much of a hurry to see you."

"What do you mean, he'll listen to me?" asked Ianto, though he was starting to see where the conversation was going.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on him, help him unlearn that reckless—sorry, impulsive—

"Self-sacrificing."

"Fine. Self-sacrificing way of leaping before he looks. He has to develop a stronger sense of self-preservation now, Mr. Jones. He won't come back," the Doctor emphasized. "And I'd hate to see that happen anytime soon."

Ianto nodded slowly, trying not to smirk. Inside, he was crowing with victory. The Doctor finally understood something about his former companion, and was, for perhaps the first time, trying to do right by Jack. "You actually care about him," he said. The Doctor looked surprised.

"Of course I do," he said. "And he cares about you. He'll listen to you."

Ianto glanced down at the wrist strap in his hand, suddenly, inexplicably sad. "If he stays."

"Of course he's going to stay," the Doctor replied. "He loves you. I wouldn't be surprised if he's got rings in his pocket right now, he was in such a hurry to get here."

"What?" Ianto gasped, and the Doctor shrugged.

"I don't know for sure if he's got them  _right now,_ though I might know some other things that I can't say anything about because—"

"Stop," said Ianto. "Just stop. I get it. Time travel and all that."

"Time travel and all that," the Doctor repeated softly. He leaned toward Ianto, his eyes earnest. "Ianto, just because he can, doesn't mean he will. He came back for you before, and he's staying for you now."

Ianto did not answer, his throat too tight to reply. The Doctor continued.

"You know, with a working wrist strap, it might not be a bad idea for you two to disappear someplace quiet for a while. Recover, rest, relax. Get to know one another better."

Ianto raised a questioning eyebrow and the Doctor caved immediately. "Oh, all right. I'm worried that if he stays here he'll come up with some crazy scheme to keep busy and save the world, and knowing his penchant for grand theatrics and attracting trouble with that grin of his, he'll get himself killed within the month. And I'd rather that didn't happen."

"So you think we should run away together?" Ianto asked skeptically. He hated how much the idea appealed to him.

"No, I think you should strategically retreat and give Jack a chance to relearn how to live as a mortal. Barcelona is lovely this time of year. The planet, not the city."

Ianto stared at the wrist strap held tight in his hands. He was so, so tempted to give it back, to go back inside the flat and slam the door on the Doctor and curl up with Jack for however long he could. Yet he'd learned the hard way that sometimes following his emotions only made things worse, so he swallowed his fear, his bitterness, and his resentment, and simply nodded. He did understand, after all, even if he might not agree.

Or maybe he did.

"I'll keep it in mind."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at Ianto. "I rather doubt it. You can't stand me sitting here handing you a working vortex manipulator, can you? You want to throw it back in my face."

Ianto sat up straighter and tried to project a dignity he didn't feel. "I might want to, but I won't. Jack deserves better."

The Doctor smiled blindingly and patted Ianto on the knee like a child. "He deserves a good man like you. He's not going to leave you for the stars, Ianto. I promise."

"Know that for sure?" Ianto asked sarcastically. Leaning back, the Doctor touched his nose and smiled.

"I might. Now." He abruptly stood up, startling Ianto out of the moment. "There's one other thing, if you don't mind."

"Would it matter if I did?" Ianto asked. The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Cutting," he murmured. "Yes, it matters. It's important. I need you to take the other wrist strap, the not-quite-as-functional one that Jack's been wearing for the last six months, and donate it to the Black Archives. Consider it a replacement artifact for the cyber transmitter you stole. It's more useful anyway."

"The transmitter you helped me steal," Ianto grumbled. "Why does the other wrist strap need to go to the Black Archive?"

"It's a timey-whimey thing," the Doctor said quietly, his gaze going distant. "Someday I'll want it, and that's where it needs to be."

"And what should Jack do about handing it off to your other face, the one with the bowtie?" Ianto asked. "If he doesn't give it to you to give to him, he can't give it to the Archive."

"I do love a good causal time loop, don't you?" asked the Doctor, rubbing his hands together. "That order still stands. Jack needs to give the wrist strap to my past self to protect the timeline. He'll know when the time is right."

"Then he won't have one," Ianto pointed out. The Doctor started walking toward the Tardis; apparently the conversation was over.

"He might not want it anymore," said the Doctor. "But I suppose you could always find another one, just in case. Perhaps while you're traveling."

"We're not—" Ianto started, but the Doctor stopped him.

"Yes, you will. You know it and I know it. Why keep denying it? You love him, and he loves you, and you can go anywhere and be anything now. Together. There is nothing holding you back!" The Doctor smiled thoughtfully. "I'm almost rather envious."

Ianto didn't know what to say, and after opening his mouth several times to try, he finally snapped it closed and nodded silently. The Doctor strode up to his ship.

"Right, then, I'm off. One working vortex manipulator to you, one deactivated wrist strap to the Black Archive. I've said all I meant to say, so it's time I returned to my own travels."

"What do I tell Jack?" Ianto called from where he still sat, watching the Doctor leave.

"Tell him everything, Mr. Jones," the Doctor replied. "And I do mean everything, or you will lose him, and for once, wouldn't you like to live happily ever after?" With a tip of his head, the Doctor slipped into the blue police box. Ianto sat and watched it disappear, off to adventures in some unknown time on some unknown planet. He glanced from the wrist strap in his hand to the empty place in his garden and back. Once again his life had been completely upended in the space of an hour, and Ianto wasn't sure what to think or do. So he settled on sitting outside, gazing up at the stars as his mind tried to make some semblance of order from the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He pulled the blanket tight around his shoulders, tucked his legs under him, and tried to get a grip on his insane life.

"Aren't you freezing out here?" asked a quiet voice from the door.

"Yep," answered Ianto, trying not to let his teeth chatter. He should have known Jack would eventually find him. At least he hadn't come out earlier, when the Doctor had been there. Ianto suspected he would always harbor insecurity where the Doctor was concerned.

"Maybe you should come in then," Jack replied. "I can warm you up."

Ianto rolled his eyes as he stood. Jack was standing in the doorway wearing one of Ianto's dressing robes. He looked tired and was still cut and bruised, but his eyes were bright and he was smiling. Ianto thought the man had rarely looked more fragile, or maybe it was simply that he appeared mortal now. Either way, he was beautiful, and Ianto felt some of his fear and reluctance begin to melt away in spite of the cold. This was what he wanted, this beautiful broken man before him; why did he keep denying himself? Why  _should_ he keep denying himself?

He followed Jack inside and shut the door behind them. Jack immediately wrapped his arms around Ianto, rubbing his back to warm him up. "You all right?" he murmured quietly. "You were gone for a while."

"Just thinking," Ianto replied. Jack nodded and stepped back.

"How about some of my special hot chocolate? We can both get warm again and you can tell me what the Doctor had to say."

Ianto felt his eyes widen in surprise. "The Doctor?" he asked. "And since when do you have a special hot chocolate?"

Jack laughed, moving around the kitchen as if he belonged there and had not just arrived a few hours earlier. He somehow found the ingredients he needed and set about making them each a warm mug of cocoa while Ianto watched in mild astonishment. He shouldn't have been surprised; he'd had glimpses of Jack's domestic side when they'd grown closer after Jack's disappearance with the Doctor. It was so perfect, Ianto found himself wanting this—Jack puttering around in his kitchen in the middle of the night—for as long as he possibly could. This was what he missed. This was why he had hated the kitchen so much.

Jack handed over a kitschy Star Wars mug Ianto had kept since he was a kid and motioned toward the same table they'd sat at earlier when he'd dropped his bombshell. Ianto sat down and took a sip of the cocoa, eyebrows rising in delight at the perfect chocolate flavor with a hint of cinnamon.

"It's brilliant," he commented, and Jack looked pleased before he wagged his eyebrows.

"I can warm you up in other ways too," he offered. Ianto grinned into his cup as he shook his head.

"Not sure you're up for it," he said. "Mortal injuries and all that."

"I am  _always_  up for you," Jack murmured.

"Jack," Ianto started, and Jack set his mug down, suddenly serious.

"Right, not the time. What did the Doctor want?"

Ianto sighed. "How did you know he was here?"

"I woke up a while ago," Jack shrugged. "Bed was too cold and empty. I saw you talking to him in the back. Is…is everything all right?"

"Of course," said Ianto. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I know how you feel about him," Jack replied, not looking at him and sounding reluctant. "I hope you didn't jump to any more wrong conclusions."

Ianto took a long sip of his cocoa to hide his reaction. Once more Jack had surprised him, this time with his insight. Jack knew perfectly well that Ianto found the Doctor frustrating, exasperating, and a bit of a threat, but he'd also picked up on one of Ianto's biggest fears, that Jack would leave now that nothing was holding him back.

"I already saw him this morning," Jack said. "So he must have come to see you. You don't have to tell me, but if he said or did anything to hurt you…" He trailed off, the implication clear. It was all Ianto could do to not laugh at the idea of Jack tracking down the Doctor and wagging his finger in the Time Lord's face.

"He didn't. He…" Ianto sighed. He might not want to share everything, but he couldn't lie to Jack, or keep the most important part of the Doctor's visit from him. It was just as he'd told the Doctor: Jack deserved better, and Ianto couldn't live with himself if he kept the real reason for the Doctor's visit to himself. "Well, he mostly wanted me to give you this." He took the wrist strap from under his blanket and set it on the table between them. Jack looked at him in confusion.

"I already have one," he said. Ianto let out a nervous laugh.

"I said that too," he replied. "But this one…this one works."

Jack's face went blank. "What?"

"It works, all of it, plus some things he added to make it better. He said the Time Agency should have thought of them." Ianto pushed it toward Jack. "He wanted you to have it, and he said to donate the one you're wearing to the Black Archive."

"Why?" asked Jack. He had barely given the wrist strap a glance; he was still watching Ianto with confusion.

"Something about him needing it one day, and that's where he'd look. Timey-whimey, I guess." Ianto shrugged again, though he felt anything but casual. In fact, he was terrified. This was it, this was Jack's chance to leave, to travel across time and space once more. Ianto let his head fall to hide his emotions, berating himself for even daring to hope that Jack really had come to London for him, was going to stay on Earth for him.

"No, why did he…" Jack swallowed. "Why does it work now?"

"Oh," said Ianto, unable to meet Jack's eyes. "Well, it seems he's a bit worried about you. He thought it might be a good idea for you to take some time, strategically retreat as he put it, and learn how to live a bit more carefully. Like the rest of us mortals."

Jack stared at him, looked at the wrist strap, then back to Ianto. "He what?"

"He's concerned, Jack," Ianto said wearily. "He thinks you're going to get yourself killed if you stick around here, so he fixed it. It works in every way. You can go anywhere, any time."

Jack stood up and started pacing the kitchen in obvious agitation. "I know he's worried about me, he said the same thing this morning! But why would he come here, tonight, and give that to you?" He stopped in front of Ianto and crossed his arms. "What else did he say?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Ianto replied, still unable to meet Jack's eyes. "He asked me to give you the wrist strap and take the other to the Black Archive."

"No," Jack replied, shaking his head. "I don't believe that's it. You're not telling me everything."

Ianto's eyes flashed up to Jack's in anger. Jack reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Tell me, please. I see it in your face. He said something to you. Why can't you tell me?"

"Why should I tell you?" Ianto countered, immediately regretting his petulant tone if not the words themselves. Jack frowned and stepped away, looking hurt by Ianto's words.

"Because I'm confused," he said. "Because I'm scared. Because I think I deserve the truth."

Ianto blew out a frustrated breath. And there it was: Jack  _did_  deserve the truth, because as far as Ianto knew, he'd been nothing but honest since they'd reconnected six months ago. Ianto couldn't let Jack leave under false pretenses, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. And Jack would leave angry and upset; that wasn't fair either, not when he was celebrating his new mortal life.

Standing and moving away from Jack, Ianto took his mug to the sink and then turned to face him. "He said I should go with you. That we should travel together, so you could relearn how to live as a mortal, so I could keep an eye on you, and so we could get to know each other better." He took a deep breath and met Jack's eyes.

The look on Jack's face morphed from confused and upset to pure joy within seconds. He stepped forward and without warning kissed Ianto fiercely. He finally stopped when he apparently couldn't stop grinning against Ianto's lips.

"When do we leave?" he asked, excitement clear in his eyes.

"Jack!" Ianto exclaimed. "I'm not…we're not…"

"Doctor's orders," Jack replied with smirk. Ianto stepped around him, back to the table where the working manipulator lay untouched in the center.

"He's your Doctor, not mine," Ianto replied. He turned and held out the wrist strap. "And this is yours, to do with as you please."

"And once again you think I'm going to leave," Jack replied. Instead of being angry, as he had been at other times in the past with Ianto's lack of faith, this time he smiled. He actually swaggered toward Ianto and stopped before him. "You thought the same thing back at Flat Holm, after the Hub blew up. Only now I don't even have to wait for the Doctor, I can go whenever I please."

Ianto held out the manipulator silently. And then Jack pushed it back toward him.

"I won't."

Ianto held it out and Jack pushed it back.

"Keep it. I don't need it and I don't want it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ianto snapped. "It's yours. Take it!"

"I won't," Jack repeated calmly. He glanced around and saw the pistol Ianto had left on the counter. He grabbed it and pointed it at the wrist strap. "Set it down and I'll shoot it if you won't take it."

"Jack!" Ianto exclaimed, stepping backward with the precious item. How could Jack do this? Yes, he had a wrist strap already, but it didn't work—it didn't teleport. With a working vortex manipulator, Jack could go to any planet he liked, any year he wanted. He could return to his own century, to his family, his friends. How could he even consider destroying his one last link to his past?

"Because I love you," Jack said quietly, and Ianto wondered if he'd spoken out loud. "I'd blow it to pieces if it meant you'd never doubt me again."

Jack was serious. Ianto stared at him, shocked at his intense sincerity. He was brought back to reality by the sound of the safety clicking off as Jack motioned at him to set the manipulator on the floor.

"No," Ianto said, feeling as if he were watching himself from out of his body. "You don't have to do that. I…I heard Barcelona is nice this time of year. The planet, not the city. And I've always wanted to see another planet."

Once again the joy and relief emanating from Jack was clear and palpable. He set the gun down and moved toward Ianto, taking the wrist strap and very slowly, almost sensuously, wrapping it around Ianto's wrist.

"Now we match," he murmured in Ianto's ear, and Ianto let out a nervous laugh. "Is that a yes?"

"What was the question again?" Ianto asked, his voice cracking. He honestly didn't know what he might be agreeing to, but he wasn't sure he cared anymore.

"Dinner…a movie?" asked Jack. "For the rest of our lives?"

Ianto's eyes slipped closed. He couldn't do it. He couldn't keep saying no. He'd missed Jack so much since September—since he'd first left Cardiff over a year ago. Jack had offered him everything in the fall and Ianto had been too scared to accept. He was still scared…but so much had changed, including himself, that maybe he was ready to take the risk.

"I won't let you lose yourself," Jack whispered. "I will always be here for you, no matter what happens.  _I promise_."

With a gasp of acceptance and profound relief, Ianto believed in him, believed in  _them_. Jack had left Torchwood, come to London, turned down the Doctor again, and even given up a working wrist strap, all for Ianto. He couldn't deny it any longer: he loved Jack and was ready to do the same, to take the risk, give up his fears, and truly accept that he  _was_  enough for Jack, that Jack would always be there for him and not leave him broken and alone. He couldn't run away again, he was too tired and too lonely and Jack was everything he wanted, everything he'd wanted since they'd first tumbled into bed together. Jack wanted him and he wanted Jack and maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

"Yes," he said, taking Jack's hands and entwining their fingers tight. "Yes."

He'd left Torchwood for a different life, but it had taken until now to find the life he'd been searching for. Now it was time to start living it.  
  
Together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Many thanks to Taamar once again for beta-reading this story and sticking with it for so long! I started this story with a prologue and had always intended to wrap it up with an epilogue, but I don't think that will be happening. I started it, but there's not much more to say other than..."And they lived happily ever after!"  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the surprise visit from the Doctor as well as the connection to the wrist strap. Thank you so much for reading this attempt to explore Ianto's character as well as a different take on CoE. I really appreciate all the comments and hope you enjoyed Jack and Ianto's happy ending as they start their different lives. :)
> 
>  


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